Hobby Getting
by SmurfLuvsCookies
Summary: "Why are you surprised? I got lots of hobbies," Bixlow told her. "How else do you think I got to be so interesting?" Lisanna finds out what Bixlow does in his spare time, and it's not what she quite expected.
1. Intro

**Author's Note:** _There is no end to the LisBix plot bunnies in my head! I'm serious, I'm legitimately obsessed with them. I don't even care if there's real romance or not (like there probably won't be in this story) I just want to see them together. This is a mish-mash of ideas of things that I think Bixlow would do in his spare time, and Lisanna is there to witness his wonderful absurdity. More funnier chapters to come, obviously. This is really just an introduction to the story to set the scene. Enjoy!_

_I don't own Fairy Tail. It belongs to Hiro Mashima, master mangaka, ruler of the rest of us mere mortals._

* * *

**An Introduction to Hobby Getting**

"It's just so irritating," Lisanna complained to her older sister one afternoon in the guildhall. Mirajane was half-working, half-gossiping behind the counter. It was the last Thursday of the month, so most of Fairy Tail's usual patronage was off on missions, hoping to scrape up cash to make their rents. There was enough clientele to keep the barmaid busy, but not enough to satisfy her worrisome addiction to juicy personal information. Luckily, Lisanna had plenty to talk about. "He hasn't left me alone all week."

"It sounds like he might have developed a bit of a crush on you," Mirajane teased, smiling coyly. Lisanna rolled her eyes. She should have known that this problem would be no exception to Mirajane's enthusiasm about romance within the guild.

"I don't think so. I think he's just hitting on me to relieve his boredom."

"Well, don't look now, but your suitor is coming this way," Mirajane warned with a knowing smirk. She sashayed further down the bar before Lisanna could beg her to stay, polishing the counter top and whistling a merry tune as she abandoned her younger sister to the whims of a bored sadist.

Despite Mira's alert, Lisanna turned and saw Bixlow gallivanting in her direction with a tankard in hand. His five wooden tiki dolls zoomed around his head, slowing into listless loops only when he plopped down in the barstool next to her. She watched impassively as he situated himself, leaning with one elbow on the shiny counter and shooting her a lazy grin. Then he said, "Come here often?"

Lisanna just continued to stare. He smelled like alcohol. His chipped tankard was empty but for foam on the rim and dregs at the bottom. His babies looked a little drunk as they teetered around them in languid circles. They twittered a little more nervously when she failed to react. Bixlow's grin turned into an uneasy frown. "Oi, stop starin' at us like that. It's creepin' the babies out."

"_Creepy_," the babies chorused. "_Creepy, creepy!_"

"I'm sorry," Lisanna finally responded. "I'm just in shock. Is that really all you've got? You've been so creative these past few days. I'm a little disappointed."

"Well, I figured that you were lookin' for a cliché or somethin'," Bixlow answered. The tongue-wagging grin returned. "Did it work?"

Lisanna raised an eyebrow and pointed at her face. "Does it look like it worked, Bixlow?"

"Is there a wrong answer? Because if there isn't, then I'm gonna say yes."

"I don't get it," Lisanna sighed, changing the subject. "Did you lose a bet?"

"What d'you mean? I don't gamble…much," he added as an afterthought, grin growing wider.

"Are you just bored then? Do you really have nothing better to do with your life than bother me?"

"Didn't realize I was bein' such a bother," Bixlow sniffed.

"_Bother, bother!_" the babies chirped.

"Oh, drop the act," Lisanna snapped. "You come over here out of the blue and start hitting on me for no reason, without any prompting, without even bothering to get to know me first. Like I'm some sleazy woman you want to pick up at the bar for a one-night stand. The only conclusion I can come up with is that you lost a bet or you're so bored that you can't think of anything better to do."

Bixlow looked hurt. "It never crossed your mind that I might actually be interested in you?"

"No. Not once."

"Hey, you're smarter than you look, then," he chuckled. "And I pegged you for one of those girls who see the best in people. You know, the peppy little optimists. I like 'em. They're gullible."

"Usually I do give people the benefit of the doubt, but you've got too much of a reputation among women for me to ignore," said Lisanna. "So, which is it?"

"Which is what?"

"Did you lose a bet or are you bored? If it's the first one, you can get lost. If it's the second, you can go get a hobby. Either way, I'm not interested."

Bixlow tipped back his head and let out a booming laugh. "What makes you think I don't already have a hobby?"

"_Hobby, hobby!_" the babies squealed in delight. "_Hobby, hobby!_"

"_You_ have a hobby?" Lisanna asked incredulously.

"Yeah. I got lots of hobbies. How d'you think I got to be so interesting?"

"What hobbies do you have? Jousting?" She knocked on his metal visor with her knuckles, delivering a grin of her own.

Bixlow returned it. "Oh, so you're into the 'knight in shining armor' crap."

"No. The only knight in shining armor I know is Erza, and I certainly don't want her sweeping me off my feet. I might never walk again."

"You might never walk again if I sweep you off your feet, either," Bixlow replied, wiggling his tongue at her suggestively. His babies howled with laughter, swarming around his head like bees.

Lisanna felt her lips twitch upward despite herself. "Well, if you have so many hobbies, why don't you go do one instead of aggravating me?" she suggested, hopping off the barstool.

"I think aggravating you counts as a hobby."

"It doesn't. And that greatly lowers my standards for whatever else you call a hobby." Lisanna turned and waved at him with a smile as she left, ever polite even to someone she claimed was unbearably irritating. Or perhaps she didn't find him nearly as irritating as she led everyone to believe.


	2. Glassblowing

**Author's Note:** _Thanks for the encouragement so far, people! Apparently everyone really liked the jape at Erza in the last chapter. I'm glad you all liked the two whole lines. I shall include more Erza jokes in the future! XD Anyway, this will probably be one of the longer chapters since it's what initially sparked this idea in the first place. That means don't get your hopes up for future chapters. Seriously. Don't. Just lower your expectations like I'm the slacker child from hell._

_Also, I've never actually blown glass before, so all of this knowledge is derived from the very helpful instructions and diagrams found on Wikihow. If any of you are experienced in the art of blowing, do tell me if I've written something wrong and I will happily correct it unless it disrupts any witty repartee. In that case you'll just have to deal._

* * *

**1. Glassblowing**

A few days later Lisanna was strolling down the street, on her way home from a job at the animal shelter. The employees always asked for her in particular when they needed help. Even the most temperamental animals responded well to her, probably because of her magic. The shelter didn't pay much for her services, but Lisanna didn't mind. She enjoyed taking care of the animals. Sometimes she even volunteered when she had the time, or when she needed cheering up. Bottle-feeding stray kittens and watching a family adopt a puppy usually did the trick. Of course, when she _was _paid, the jobs were less comfortable, usually involving wild, feral creatures or complicated births. Today she had helped deliver a litter of puppies because the mother had been in labor for nearly a twenty-four hours. Four of the five survived, mewling and yawning. The smallest and weakest of the bunch had remained still. It was a bittersweet ending for the day. Lisanna wished she could have done something to save the stillborn pup, but the accomplishment of the other four stayed with her.

She froze mid-stride when she noticed a familiar figure walking on the opposite side of the street. Bixlow stuck out like a sore thumb among the masses. People circled widely around him when they passed, eyeing his quirky dress and buzzing babies. As she watched, he stopped by a drab little shop and ducked inside, stooping to squeeze his wide shoulders through the narrow threshold.

Curiously Lisanna crossed the street and peered inside the windows of the shop. The wooden shelves displayed a medley of delicate glassware: crystal-cut decanters, tinkling windchimes, elegant perfume bottles, abstract figurines, colorful stained glass, bubbled panes, polished goblets, platters, bowls, and more. The work was masterful. Everything was beautiful and glittering in the light of the afternoon sun. Before she could stop herself, Lisanna was opening the door and stepping inside. A cowbell announced her arrival.

A young man appeared from the hidden alcoves at the back of the store. He was slighter than Bixlow, but not by much, with thick bands of muscle wrapping around his arms and a neck like a bull's. His face was flushed and sweaty. Lisanna blinked. He was certainly not what she expected, but then again she had followed _Bixlow_ into the store.

"Hello," he said amiably. "Is there anything I can help you with, miss?"

"Oh, no, just…looking," Lisanna lied, feigning interest in the glassware.

The man nodded. "Well, my name is Boris. Just call if you need anything, I'll be in the back. Practical things are up in the front, jewelry and things are back here." He loped into the shadows. Lisanna heard a door close shut behind him.

She walked along the shelves, glancing at the sparkling merchandise. Hesitantly she glanced across the small shop for Bixlow, but didn't see him. She frowned. It wasn't like he could have been hiding—unless, of course, he was in the back with Boris. _Maybe they're friends_, she thought. That would explain Bixlow's curious disappearance and why he would enter a glass shop in the first place. Lisanna couldn't imagine it was because he actually wanted to buy handmade dishes or glass beads.

She looked for a while longer, gradually becoming more absorbed in the beautiful craftsmanship of the jewelry and figurines. She wondered if Boris had made them. It seemed impossible that such massive strength shaped the fragile artwork.

Lisanna was inspecting a necklace of mottled green and blue glass beads when she heard a whisper close to her ear, "Nice choice."

She jumped out of her skin, the necklace slipping through her fingers. A quick hand reached around her and caught it before it hit the floor. Lisanna's eyes traveled up the arm attached to the hand and came to rest on Bixlow's smiling face. She scowled. "That's very funny, startling a person in the middle of a glass shop!"

"I wouldn't've let you break anything," he said, rolling his eyes. He held the necklace up. "This is nice. It goes with your eyes. You gonna buy it?"

"I was debating," Lisanna retorted, snatching it from his grasp. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Boris told me that I had to check out some hottie that walked into his store," Bixlow replied. Lisanna couldn't see his eyes, but she knew instinctively that they were roaming up and down her body. "Couldn't find her. What are _you_ doin' here?"

"I…I was looking for…a present," Lisanna fibbed.

"A present?"

"Yes. For Mirajane."

"Uh-huh. For what? Her birthday was a month ago. I remember 'cause you threw that huge party at the guild and I woke up the next morning hung-over on the train to Oak Town."

"Do I need a reason to buy my sister a gift?" Lisanna shot back. "I adore her, and that's reason enough for me."

"Damn. Gifts for no reason. That's one hell of a happy family." Bixlow looked around. "So you decided that a hole-in-the-wall glass shop was the best place to look for a present for the barmaid?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Lisanna huffed. "Besides, you still haven't told me why _you're_ in a hole-in-the-wall glass shop. This is the last place I'd expect to find you."

Bixlow smirked. "As it turns out, this is one of my hobbies."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, I'll show you." He waved her to the back of the store, where a heavy black door sat nestled behind a curtain. Bixlow pushed the curtain aside and opened the door for her, bending into a bow that was too exaggerated to be courteous. Lisanna passed him with her tongue sticking out.

When she walked into the room, she understood why Boris had been so sweaty. It was sweltering inside, so hot it was like hitting a brick wall upon entry even though there were several windows open to let out the heat. Three small furnaces were evenly spaced along the wall, the middle of which was unlit. Inside the other two, bright orange coals were burning. Hollow metal rods, steel tables, piles of newspaper, large serrated tongs, buckets of water, and other such tools were scattered around on shelves.

Boris was working at one of the furnaces, turning a piece of glowing molten glass around on a pipe. He glanced back when he heard the door close, then he let out a tragic sigh. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't know what he told you, but you're not allowed back here. Which he knows good and well, no matter how many times I tell him."

Lisanna raised an eyebrow at Bixlow. She wondered how often he brought female customers back here. A lot, by the sound of it.

"She's a friend," said Bixlow, "from Fairy Tail."

"Oh, really? You're a mage?"

"Yes."

"You don't have creepy things flying around your head all the time, repeating everything you say, too, do you?" He pointed to Bixlow's babies, which were stacked neatly in the corner, dormant.

Lisanna laughed. "No, that's just Bixlow."

"Then welcome," Boris said, pulling his project from the furnace and rolling it around on one of the steel tables. "Don't mind me, I'm just making a living here."

"How come you get a freakin' welcoming committee wherever you go?" Bixlow inquired grumpily, steering her toward the other glowing furnace. "People are never as happy to see me as they are to see you."

"People just like me better," Lisanna answered.

"Like your ass better, I bet," he muttered with a shrug. "Guess I can't really blame them."

Lisanna narrowed her eyes at him. "Is looking at my ass another one of your hobbies?"

"Don't flatter yourself, babe. I enjoy all the girls' asses. But yours is one of my favorites." He grinned, as if he were offering her a huge compliment. She supposed that he was, in a way, but it didn't stop her urge to slap him.

"Don't let him talk to you like that, sweetheart," Boris called from across the room. "You can stick his head in that furnace if you want. I'll say he tripped."

"Get back to work!" Bixlow bellowed.

"Don't make me kick you out of my store, you freeloader!"

"You two make a lovely pair," Lisanna remarked.

"Ignore him. Callin' me a freeloader, the nerve…"

"So this is your hobby?" Lisanna gestured to the materials. "Glassblowing?"

"Yeah, one of 'em. I actually use it for missions a lot. Most of the time I get called in to handle unruly spirits, and I have to trap them in a soul glass. They're expensive to buy, easy to make. So I make."

"Soul glass?"

"Yeah. Enchanted glass bottle to keep a soul trapped inside. Pretty self-explanatory. That's what I'm makin' right now. Wanna see?"

She didn't have anything better to do, and she _was_ kind of intrigued, so she agreed to stay. Bixlow grinned and walked her through all the materials—blowpipe, marver, cooler post, jacks, punty, file, shears, annealer. After he was done, he grabbed a blowpipe and began stripping.

Lisanna balked. "What are you _doing_?!"

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. It ain't for your benefit, it just gets freakin' hot as hell in here after a while." He pulled at least two layers of shirts over his head before he was standing before her, bare-chested, although the visor still remained over his face. He grinned when he noticed her blushing and flexed a muscle. "Like whatcha see, hm?"

"Then she sure as hell isn't looking at you!" Boris hooted. Bixlow scowled at him and Lisanna laughed gratefully. Bixlow's large, toned arms and abs were surprisingly sexy—she wasn't sure she would have been able to stammer out a witty response if Boris hadn't stepped in. _He just took you by surprise, that's all,_ Lisanna told herself, placing a cool hand over her cheek. _It's not like you've never seen a guy shirtless, and it's not like he's more impressive than anyone you have seen_.

Her color was almost back to normal when Bixlow tossed his discarded clothes at her, starting her blush up again with renewed vigor. She contemplated throwing his shirts in the furnace and decided against it. Boris might get mad at her.

Lisanna watched as he stuck the pipe into the furnace. Boris helped pour molten glass on the end. Bixlow turned the pipe around in his hands, making the liquid glass gather around the pipe in an even layer. It was mesmerizing to watch the glowing shape grow and drip. It was also mesmerizing to watch Bixlow's powerful muscles move as he turned the blowpipe, but Lisanna managed to convince herself that she was only looking at him because staring at the furnace for so long hurt her eyes.

"Now I'm gonna shape it," Bixlow explained after a while. He removed the glass from the furnace and brought it over to the steel table, called the marver. He rolled the glass along the marver to shape it into what he called a cylinder, although it looked more to Lisanna like a rounded-off diamond on a deck of cards. He took it off the marver and grinned at her. "And this is the part you've been waiting for," he decreed with a tongue-wagging grin. "I'm gonna blow it."

"You always blow it."

Bixlow flicked his tongue at her—she wasn't sure, but it looked like some kind of oral "fuck off"—and blew into the blowpipe. He capped his end with his thumb and they watched as the glass at the other end expanded, a hollow bubble forming in the center. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is called a parison," he explained as he brought it back to the furnace.

"I know what it's called, idiot," Boris grumbled, moving to help Bixlow pour more glass onto the end of the blowpipe for the second gather.

"Oi, wanna try it?" Bixlow asked Lisanna, ignoring Boris entirely as more molten glass dripped onto the parison.

"Me?" Lisanna said, astounded. "No…I mean, I don't want to mess up your soul glass—"

"C'mon, it's easy, I'll pay attention. Get over here." Lisanna hopped off the table she was sitting on and edged nervously over to the furnace. She couldn't fault Bixlow for taking his shirt off—it was even hotter over by the fire. Lisanna wiped her palms on her shorts before she gingerly accepted the blowpipe, but it did no good. They became slick with sweat almost immediately.

Bixlow showed her where to place her hands, standing behind her with his arms wrapped around her. Lisanna stared intently at the furnace, willing herself not to blush, but it wasn't working. It was probably just the heat making her red, she decided.

"The important thing is to keep it rotating at all times," Bixlow said in her ear, bringing her back into reality. He slowly released the blowpipe, but the weight was more than Lisanna expected and he had to grab it again when she almost dropped it. Lisanna fumbled it a second time when she realized his chest was against her back and his hands were on top of her hands.

"It's heavy," she squeaked.

"Yeah, how d'you think I got these muscles you've been droolin' over all day?"

"I wouldn't—I haven't been _drooling_!"

"Love, there's enough saliva over there to fill a pool," Boris interjected.

Lisanna glared at him. "You're supposed to be on my side, traitor!"

"Hey, I never declared a side. I am a neutral party that pokes fun at both sides behind their backs. I'm a comedian."

"Not so funny when it's at your expense, is it?" Bixlow said. "Starin' at me is nothin' to me ashamed of. I'd do the same thing if you took your shirt off."

"That's not going to happen."

"Just makin' a suggestion. Here, you can go ahead and let go. I gotta shape it again, and it's a little harder to do this time. Go get that newspaper and soak it in some water."

Lisanna released the blowpipe and ducked under Bixlow's arm. She grabbed a thick stack of newspapers and dunked them in the plastic bucket full of water until they were sopping. By the time she was done, Bixlow had removed the blowpipe from the furnace and was holding it in the air to cool a little. "Good girl," he said with more than a little condescension when she handed him the newspaper. Lisanna would have kicked him in his shapely gut if he wasn't holding a metal rod with a smoldering ball of glassware on the end. She watched in fascination as he took the wet newspaper and began shaping the parison into an oval shape, using one hand to rotate the blowpipe and the other to shape the glass.

"This is called a bullet," he explained when he was finished. "Now this is where I need your help. Usually Boris does it, but I think you'll be much better at it."

Boris let out a disembodied bark of laughter from across the room.

"I have a feeling I'm going to regret this," Lisanna sighed, "but what do you need me to do?"

Bixlow grinned wickedly, tongue poking out of his mouth. He gestured to the pipe in his hands. "I need you to blow me."

"…What?"

"You see, I need help with this part 'cause I'll marver the bullet and shape it, a task that requires a lot of concentration. I also need someone to blow into the blowpipe so the bullet will actually expand. Since Boris is busy, I need you to blow me. I think I'll like your mouth around my pipe better." Bixlow strode over to the steel table, waiting expectantly.

Lisanna huffed and followed, not even bothering to grace that with a response. Bixow began to marver the bullet, angling the blowpipe so that the marver touched the bottom. "Blow," he ordered. Lisanna rolled her eyes and begrudgingly obeyed. "That's good," Bixlow said. Lisanna barely had time to remove her mouth before Bixlow's thumb capped the hollow space, trapping the air. She watched as the glass expanded, becoming bigger and rounder.

"What do you know?" she said. "I'm pretty good at blowing, after all."

Bixlow smiled. "Didn't doubt it for a second."

"Oh, brother," said Boris.

"Need to make the nozzle now," Bixlow decreed. He brought the round glass ball and blowpipe over to what could have been an old bike-rack. He set the blowpipe on the bar with the glass hanging off one end and grabbed a pair of metal tongs called jacks. He rotated the bar and used the jacks to pinch the top of the glass around the blowpipe, forming a long, narrow neck of the same diameter.

"This is the tricky part," Bixlow said after the nozzle was well-formed. "I have to transfer the bottle from the blowpipe to the punty. Go get the rod over there." He pointed.

Lisanna crossed her arms. "How about a please?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes. If you aren't going to ask nicely, you should plan ahead and keep your materials closer to your workstation."

Boris whistled. "I think I like her, Bixlow. Where'd you say you got her from, again?"

"I've had about enough of you!" Bixlow snapped. He turned to Lisanna. "Fine. _Please_ go get the rod over there."

Lisanna turned on her heel and grabbed the punty, bringing it back with a cheerful smile. Bixlow snatched it away and used a wet file to etch a line into the glass, making the transfer easy and clean. He grabbed a pair of shears, reheated the glass in the furnace for a few moments, and trimmed the jagged edges of the lip. Then he brought it over to the bucket of water and dipped it in, arousing a great hiss of steam. As she watched, Bixlow fumbled in his pockets and sprinkled some powder into the water, turning the steam from pearly white to deep purple. He muttered a few words under his breath.

"That's what makes it a soul glass," Boris explained from behind her, causing Lisanna to jump. "I just dip my stuff in water, but Bixlow does some freaky ritual so that it's enchanted. He won't tell me what the hell he puts in the water or what he's saying, even though I let him use this place without a fee. Selfish bastard."

Bixlow finished and removed the glass from the water, bringing it to the bar again. He grabbed a wooden block and tapped the punty until the glass fell from it. Then he carefully carried the hot glassware—which was now a purple so dark it was almost black—to the annealer to cool off.

"There you have it," he declared once the doors to the annealer were shut. "That's my hobby. What d'you think?"

"It's interesting," Lisanna admitted. "Definitely not something I would have guessed. When is that going to be cooled off?"

"It's gotta anneal over night. It'll be ready by tomorrow, before I go on my mission."

"Well, I'm closing up shop," Boris announced, grabbing his things. "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be out in a sec," Bixlow growled, pulling on his clothes. The furnaces were cooling, slowly growing dimmer. Boris's was almost extinguished. Lisanna hadn't even thought to ask what he was making.

She pointed to Bixlow's furnace. "Isn't that a fire hazard?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "This place ain't worth much anyway." The babies woke up from their hibernation and zoomed over to their master, falling behind him in a single-file line. "Boris don't like it when they're all crazy around his store," Bixlow explained as they walked out into the shop. The air was cool on Lisanna's damp skin.

"_Crazy, crazy!_" the babies repeated.

"Control those pets of yours, Bixlow! They better not break anything!"

"What'd I tell you?" The seith mage mumbled. He paused at a shelf and plucked something from it, then dangled the blue and green necklace from earlier in front of Lisanna's face. "Hey. You want this?"

"It's pretty, but I don't think I can afford it," Lisanna answered.

"Just take it, then."

"I'm not going to steal it."

Bixlow dropped the necklace, leaving it up to Lisanna's clumsy reflexes to catch it. He returned her scowl with a smile. "Don't worry, it ain't stealing."

"Well, I certainly didn't pay for it."

"You don't need to. That's the only goddamn thing in this store that Boris didn't make." Bixlow's grin widened at her shocked expression. They stepped out onto the street, the shopkeeper hanging back to lock the door behind them.

"Th-thanks, Bixlow," Lisanna stuttered finally. Bixlow just kept walking away from her, waving a hand over his shoulder.

"Don't mention it. I might as well reward you with something. You did blow me, after all."


	3. Exorcising

**Author's Note: **_Lovin' the love, darling readers. Apparently my numerous, variously corny, sometimes borderline facepalm-worthy blowjob jokes were appreciated. I try. __Less flirting in this chapter, but more danger and action! Oh, yes, and references to an iconic eighties cult classic franchise that for all intents and purposes exists in the Fairy Tail universe (as it rightly should, because no universe is complete without Bill Murray)._

* * *

**2. Exorcising**

Lisanna sat in the corner of the guild the next morning with the latest issue of _Wizard Weekly_ and a steaming mug of tea in her hands. She was reading "Ten Easy Ways to Wear a Scarf," thinking of giving Natsu a makeover, when a shadow eclipsed the table and a hand slapped down on the glossy magazine, concealing much of the text. Lisanna scowled up at the perpetrator murderously—that was one of _the_ _most annoying_ things in the world—and wasn't surprised to see Bixlow grinning down at her.

"Can I help you?" she snapped, making a grab for her tea before he could molest that as well.

Unfortunately, her sudden movement only attracted his attention. He peered into the cup curiously, wrinkling his nose at the herbal scent. "What is _that_?"

"Tea."

"Isn't that a plant?"

"Yes, a plant that is used to make a beverage. A perfectly acceptable beverage that deserves no ridicule from the likes of you, considering the alcohol you drink is also manufactured from plants."

"But it's _booze_," Bixlow retorted, as though this excused the botanical origin of the drink. His babies chorused, "_Booze! Booze!_" with an extra dose of enthusiasm.

"Did you come over here to argue with me about tea and beer?" Lisanna inquired.

"Nope, I came over here to show you this." He reached into his backpack—which she just noticed was slung over his shoulder—and pulled out a round purple bottle with a narrow nozzle and a cork stopper.

Lisanna smiled. "The soul glass! It looks good."

"Damn right it does. I figured I'd show it off before I used it," he explained, tossing it into the air and catching it in his hand. This nonchalant risk didn't even faze Lisanna. After witnessing first-hand Bixlow's reflexes yesterday, she wasn't concerned about him dropping the fragile glassware.

"Oh, are you going on a mission?"

"Yeah, just a quick one. Some lady needs me to exorcise a ghost that's haunting her house or somethin'," Bixlow said. Lisanna couldn't tell, but she was willing to bet his eyes were rolling behind that visor.

"You're a ghostbuster now?"

"Yeah, but you can still call me any time."

"And it continues," Lisanna sighed. "When are you ever going to stop hitting on me?"

"When it stops entertaining me," Bixlow said with a wolfish grin. "Don't get your hopes up, babe. You're pretty entertaining."

"_Hopes up! Hopes up!_" the babies quipped.

"I'm flattered," said Lisanna dryly. "Don't you have a demon to exorcise, or something?"

"It's a restless spirit, not a demon," Bixlow said with surprising gravity, all joking gone from his demeanor.

Lisanna raised her eyebrows. "What's the difference?"

"Gray magic and black magic, that's the difference," Bixlow explained. "Seith magic is already somewhat frowned upon, especially human possession, which is what I practice. It's legal, but sometimes the lines are pretty blurred. Like my special eyes, for instance—I could probably get arrested for those. If people think I'm messin' with demons, things can get ugly for me fast. Demons are pure evil. Ghosts are just…troubled, that's all."

"Oh," Lisanna said. "I didn't know. Sorry."

Bixlow's grin returned, tongue flashing. "You can easily make up for your grievous error."

"Just take the apology and be happy with that," Lisanna huffed.

"Will you at least hear me out? Or d'you not want to see the soul glass in action?" He waved the purple bottle in front of her face by the nozzle. It didn't sparkle like most glass—it drank in the light like a shadow, causing a slight chill down Lisanna's spine.

"Are you asking me to come with you on your mission?" she said warily.

"I'm offering you the opportunity to observe one of the most renowned seith mages in Fiore," Bixlow corrected. "Free of pay, of course."

"Oh, of course."

"It's in Magnolia, and if what the request says is true, it might even be the spirit of an animal. I'm thinkin' a bear or a wolf, maybe. What d'you say?"

"_Say, say, what d'you say?_" the babies chanted.

Lisanna considered it for a moment. She didn't have anything planned for the day except for the magazine Bixlow was currently holding hostage, and it could be interesting to see an exorcism. "Alright, I'll go," she decided, standing up.

"Excellent," said Bixlow, his grin growing even wider. He put the soul glass back in his backpack and they headed out the door. Lisanna frowned and glanced behidn her as they left the guild. She noticed that everyone quickly looked away when they were caught staring, all except Mirajane over at the bar, who winked and gave her a thumbs up. Blushing, Lisanna ducked her head and picked up the pace to catch up with Bixlow.

* * *

The supposedly haunted house was just on the outskirts of Magnolia, closer the rim of the East Forest than to civilization. It wasn't the gargoyle-infested Gothic mansion or the dilapidated rambling Victorian Lisanna had come to associate with ectoplasmic beings thanks to the horror-movie industry. The house was small, clean, and functional, more of a cottage than anything else, with its thatch roof and lovely rock exterior. There was even one of those wooden wheels on the side that generated hydroelectric power, but it wasn't spinning.

Still, Lisanna wouldn't have been surprised if it _was_ actually haunted. The cottage, though pleasantly quaint from a distance, exuded a sinister aura upon nearing. A murder of crows squawked from the thatch roof, using the straw as a comfortable roost. It was clear they'd been uninvited guests for some time—the stone walls and chimney of the cottage were frosted white with bird feces. There was a single window, broken and boarded up, and the cheerful blue paint on the door was peeling. It was clear that the cottage once boasted a window garden in addition to a hearty vegetable patch, but all vegetation had dried up and shriveled into black, skeletal carcasses. Even the grass was brown and dead. It crunched under their feet as they approached.

"This isn't creepy," Lisanna whispered sarcastically, following the tiki dolls' example and keeping close to Bixlow.

He peered down at her and grinned. "Tell me, are you the kind of girl who cuddles at scary movies?"

"I guess you'll find out. It looks to me like we're walking right into one."

"Just don't trip and fall if somethin' comes after us. I ain't stoppin' to help you up."

"That's not funny, Bixlow."

He stopped at the door and rapped his knuckles against it twice. Lisanna braced herself for a demented old crone with an eyepatch or missing limb to complete the picture, but the woman who answered the door seemed normal enough. She was on the elderly side, but she looked more like someone's favorite grandmother—the kind that served cookies and hot cocoa and always had an ample supply of candy in her purse. Her hair was silver-gray, cut in that short, slightly curled hair-do that all old ladies universally possessed at one point in their lives, and her crisp white apron was stained with grape jelly.

"Hello," she greeted them pleasantly. "You must be the mages from Fairy Tail."

"Yup. You the lady with the ghost?"

"It would seem so. I can't think of another explanation for all this." She gestured vaguely at their surroundings, looking troubled. "Please, come inside, have a seat. I just made thumb-print cookies!"

Bixlow squeezed into the cottage, followed by Lisanna and his babies. His size in relation to the furniture was almost comical. He barely fit in the small wooden chair, and his knees bumped the table. Lisanna stifled a giggle and sat next to him. The inside of the cottage was as gloomy as the outside suggested—everything was covered in a film of dust and cobwebs, the lamps flickered sporadically, and there were ominous gouges on the furniture. Bixlow fingered a deep scratch on the table, peeling off a splinter. "What happened here?"

"Oh, you know. Grandchildren," the woman joked. She brought over a platter piled high with round shortbread cookies with jam in the center. She set it on the table, not quite covering the damage, and pulled up a third chair. "Please, help yourselves. To be honest, I don't know where those scratches came from. I woke up one morning and they were there. It's the same with the crows—they started appearing one by one. They're fearless, too. They just peck at my scarecrows and ruin my roof. I can't even hang my clothes out to dry anymore, or they'll get soiled by those nasty things! After the crows came, my plants all started to die. I only grew enough for me, but I don't have a source of income, so it's difficult for me to go out and buy food. And all this dust…! No matter how much I clean, it always comes back the next morning."

"Comes with the territory," Bixlow assured. "Restless spirits attract crows and ravens because they're sensitive to the electromagnetic field that ghosts create. Same thing with the dust. The plants and scratches are probably caused by the ghost on purpose. It's pretty strong, but luckily it's not human."

"How do you know?" the woman asked curiously.

"Even as a spirit, things usually maintain their former capabilities and shapes," Bixlow explained. "These scratches were caused by claws. If it was a human, the damage would be something only a human can do. Knocking over furniture, breaking mirrors, et cetera. Humans also have more consciousness when they're spirits. They're not as easily confused. So they can easily pick up things, too, and use them for a specific purpose."

"_Purpose, purpose!_" the tiki dolls chirped.

"Well, I suppose that's a relief," the woman said, giving them a wary glance. "If I don't have a human ghost, what kind of ghost do I have?"

"Lookin' at the intensity of the affects, I'm guessin' a bear," Bixlow said. "Don't worry, you're not in any serious danger. It's more difficult for spirits to harm living things than it is for them to lash out on inanimate objects. That's why it's your furniture that's gettin' beat up. The bear was probably poached or something nearby and wandered to the closest human dwelling to retaliate."

"Oh, dear."

Bixlow stood up, his chair scraping the floor. "It won't take long. We'll exorcise it and get everything back to normal. Let's go, Lisanna."

She nodded and swallowed the five cookies she'd managed to shove in her mouth, following him out of the cottage. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of the crows and decay. "What now?"

"We figure out what's really goin' on," Bixlow said, frowning. "No freakin' bear spirit is strong enough to produce this kind of aura. It's somethin' else."

"Why did you tell her it was a bear spirit, then?"

"Because if it is what I think it is, Granny could be in danger if I tell her the truth." He glanced back at Lisanna. "You should probably skedaddle, too."

Lisanna scowled. "No way. This is _our_ mission…even if I'm not getting paid."

"Don't worry," Bixlow remarked wryly. "I ain't either."

"You're…not?"

"Nope. People don't usually get paid for hobbies, do they? Besides, what kind of bastard takes money from a poor old lady?" Bixlow shook his head. "We're gettin' paid in cookies. That's all she could afford. And you already ate half my pay, damn you."

"Oops," Lisanna blushed.

"If you're not gonna go, at least put this on." Bixlow dug around in his backpack and pulled out a leather necklace with a bead of obsidian strung to it. "It'll protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Lisanna inquired, slipping it over her head.

"The demon," Bixlow said solemnly. His babies moaned, "_Deeeemooon…deeeemooon_…"

"_Demon_?! But I thought you said—"

"Yeah. I said. That was before we got here and I realized the lady's report was all wrong. In fact, there's no telling if she's even herself. She might be possessed."

"Possessed?" Lisanna squeaked, thinking of all the cookies she'd thoughtlessly consumed. The jelly on the old woman's apron suddenly seemed nefarious rather than inviting.

Bixlow laughed, tongue appearing. "Just kidding. It's not a demon, and she ain't possessed. Don't worry about her poisoning you with baked goods."

"Bixlow! That's not funny, you really had me worried for a second!"

"I know! You should've seen the look on your face!" he boomed. "Nah, my best guess is that it's the ghost of a mage. That's the only thing I can think of that would be able to cause those gouges _and_ attract a miasma like this."

"The ghost of a mage?"

"Mhm. Happens more than you'd think. In fact, most ghost stories you hear about are actually the spirits of mages since they're more powerful than human spirits without magic. Sometimes they're beneficial and stay behind so they could continue to help people, so people just let them be or make money off of them. Other times, like this guy, they're not. He's probably a dark mage. Not a strong one, though. If he was, he'd be able to manifest himself."

"_Take. That. Back_."

Lisanna gasped and wheeled around, coming face-to-face with a man she hadn't realized was walking behind them. He was the old and decrepit man with the eyepatch that Lisanna had expected at the door. He was even missing a leg, which he'd replaced with a wooden peg. He scowled at them, his face as wrinkled and bitter as a raisin. Lisanna noticed something else—she could see the cottage through him. He was transparent.

He was the ghost.

"Ahoy, matey," Bixlow greeted, saluting the old mage.

"_Don't mock me, boy_," the ghost snarled. "_You know good and well I'm no stinkin' pirate. Now take back what you said._"

"I've said a lot in my lifetime. What, exactly, would you like me to take back?"

"_That I'm not a strong mage. I manifested myself, didn't I? So take it back._"

Bixlow seemed to consider it for a moment. "Sorry," he said eventually, "no refunds."

The old ghost grew enraged as the tiki dolls swirled around his head, repeating Bixlow's taunts like five wooden parrots. Some of the crows squawked, unnerved, and flew from the roof. "_I'll show you who's stronger!_" he roared. He raised his hands into the air, and his fingernails became long sharp claws. His uncovered eye glowed red and his teeth grew, too, becoming jagged and pointy. "_I'll rip the wings off your back, damn fairy!_"

He lunged at the dolls, who squealed and zipped out of reach. Lisanna gasped when one of them let out a genuine scream and spiraled to the ground, broken. "_You see?_" the old man chuckled, stomping on a piece of the doll. "_I am strong. How many ghosts can do_ that_?_"

"Fair amount, actually," Bixlow shrugged. "My babies get chased by cat spirits all the time. I'd be really impressed if you came at _me_, but obviously you're too much of an old, dead fart."

That was the last straw for the insane mage. With a wordless cry he disappeared as suddenly as he'd come. Bixlow frowned, listening closely. Even his babies were perfectly still.

Lisanna shivered, feeling cold. The hairs on the back of her neck stood in attention. _Something's not right here_, she thought, looking around.

"_You want me to attack a living someone to prove my strength? Fine, I will_." Lisanna shrieked and covered her head with her arms as the ghost shot forward out of thin air, aiming his claws right for her neck. She felt a deep stinging sensation as the claws sliced her arms, followed by a numb, icy cold.

"Lisanna, get down!" Bixlow shouted. Lisanna dropped to the ground immediately, the prickly grass pressing against her face. She peeked through the hole in her arms as Bixlow whipped out the soul glass and undid the cork. The ghost screamed and tried to run away, but it couldn't resist the force of the enchanted bottle. Its screams died down to an echo. When there was no more sign of the spirit, Bixlow corked the purple glass and swirled it around a bit. He put it in his backpack and squatted down next to where she lay.

"You were goading him on purpose," she accused.

"Yeah. Granted, I was expecting him to attack me. That's usually how you've gotta get under their skin. Spirits have a one-track thought process. That one evidently died feeling powerless. How're your arms?"

Lisanna rolled over and stretched her hands toward the sky. Blood ran down her forearms from the four deep scratches that ran across them. Some of it dripped on her face, hot and sticky. "They hurt," she said quietly. "I thought you said this necklace was supposed to protect me?"

"It did," Bixlow answered. "Without it, your head would be rollin' around on the ground right now. I'll give him that—this spirit was pretty strong."

"Fun hobby," Lisanna muttered, putting her arms back down and wincing when pain shot though them all the way to her bones. It wasn't normal pain, either—there was a chill to it, like someone was stuffing ice cubes into her wounds.

Bixlow gently helped her to her feet, letting her lean against him even though her arms smeared his clothes with blood. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up. And then you can watch while I collect _my_ payment."


	4. Sewing

**Author's Note:** _This chapter's a little bit shorter and a bit delayed, but what can I say? I'm one busy gal. School started this week and I'm already too exhausted to stay up after midnight, which is when I reach full creative mode (or perhaps it's just mild insanity kicking in?) Anyway...I'm a senior this year, guys! Woot woot! What does this mean? Excitement! A license to get away with everything! College! And hopefully _not_ the steady decline of my updating frequency, but we'll see. Like I said. One busy gal. Though your reviews are really encouraging me to write! I especially love the ideas you're giving me for hobbies Bixlow could have. Some of them might even have their own chapter. ;)_

* * *

**3. Sewing**

"Ow!"

"Well, if you'd just stay still…"

"I'm trying, but it hurts, Bixlow!"

The seith mage looked up at her from his work, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Don't tell me you're gettin' ready to cry?"

Lisanna's vision was blurring, truth be told, but she would never admit it. Instead she scrunched up her face to restrain the tears and puckered her lips as Bixlow's babies mocked her. "_Cry, cry, cry!_" they shrieked, apparently elated by her misery.

"I'm not crying," she sniffed.

"Oh, I wouldn't blame you if you did, dear," the old woman said as she hobbled into the kitchen with a tray of steaming teacups. "I still can't believe it was a mage spirit haunting my house. I feel awful that you were injured. Please, if there's anything I can do—"

"More cookies would be nice," Bixlow suggested, picking the last one from the platter and popping it into his mouth. He peered at the tea and wrinkled his nose as their client left to fulfill his request. "Ugh. This 'tea' crap again. What is it with you women and _tea_?"

"Should you really be eating right now?" Lisanna snapped grouchily. They were still in the kitchen of the old woman's cottage. True to form, Bixlow devoured the rest of the cookies like a vacuum cleaner while tending to Lisanna's wounds, leaving absolutely none for her. But she supposed she couldn't really complain—he was gentle as he wiped the blood from her arms and warned her when the antiseptic was going to sting. Gradually the chilling numbness left by the spirit's claws faded away under his hands. Lisanna was wary when he produced a needle and thread from the medical kit—yes, _Bixlow_, surprisingly enough, had the forethought to bring medical supplies on a mission—and declared that the cuts would need stitches.

"Don't you think we should wait until we get back to the guild?" Lisanna had said. She was understandably nervous about Bixlow operating any sort of medical procedure on her.

"Why?" he'd countered. "You don't trust me?"

When she flat-out told him "no," he had tipped back his head and laughed, assuring her that he got plenty of sewing practice, that he'd stitched up worse, that she had nothing to worry about. So now he was closing the wounds on her arms in the middle of an old woman's cottage kitchen, eating cookies, goading Lisanna, and once again criticizing plant-based beverages.

"Don't worry about my medical credibility. Like I said, I do this all the time. If it's good enough for the Raijinshuu, it's good enough for you. You know how picky Evergreen is," Bixlow retorted, turning back to her stitches. Lisanna winced as the needle pushed through her skin, but refused to make any noise. It was clear that Bixlow would tease her if she showed weakness. Granny had offered her some whiskey to dull the pain, which Lisanna had gleefully accepted—she hadn't asked why the old lady had enough liquor to satisfy Cana's greedy thirst for a day, afraid that she might revoke her offer. The alcohol worked a little, but was not as effective as a genuine painkiller, and Lisanna was starting to feel a little tipsy.

"I guess you're right," she said. "Where did you learn how to do this, anyway?"

Bixlow smirked begrudgingly. "I suppose you could say sewing's another hobby."

"What, like…real sewing? With fabric and stuff?"

"Yeah. You don't think I _buy_ my clothes like this, do you?" Bixlow shrugged. "This is a little different, but it's the same basic principle."

"_Principle, principle!_" the babies squealed.

Lisanna watched as he finished up the last scratch, closing the wound with a final stitch. He cut the string and tossed the needle, digging around for gauze in the backpack. "You might wanna get the little dragonslayer girl to look at it when we get back," he told her, producing white bandages and wrapping them around her forearms dexterously. He secured them with a sticker, accidentally pressing down on a cut with his thumb. Lisanna sucked in a breath and pulled her arm back, but he caught her wrist and silently repeated the motion with less force. "There," he said. "All better."

"Thanks," Lisanna said. She watched his thumb skim over the gauze until it arrived at the seam where the bandage ended and her skin began. The thumb skipped over the line and traced the veins on her wrist, heading down to her palm and stopping there. She glanced at Bixlow's face, but as far as she could tell he wasn't looking at her, just her hand. "Don't tell me you're a palm reader, too."

"If I said yes, would you believe the fortune I gave you?"

"Not if it involves me falling for your lame pick up lines."

"Then no, I'm not a palm reader." He grinned at her lecherously, letting go of her hand. "But I can be in your future, if you know what I mean."

"_Future! Be in your future!_"

Lisanna grabbed the quilt that Granny had lain on her lap and covered Bixlow's head with it. "What the hell're you doin'?" he asked her, voice muffled from behind the thick fabric.

"Since we're doing magic tricks, I'm trying to make you disappear."

"And how's that workin' for you?"

"Well, I think it might work if you'd just be quiet. I don't ever hear the elephants make a peep when magicians do this on stage."

"…This blanket's still warm."

Lisanna sneered and snatched it back. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Oh, now, no need for such language!" the old woman quipped, baring a new tray of fresh cookies with the jam in the middle. "Here, enjoy these. I'm afraid they're the last batch. How are your arms, miss?"

"They're much better, thank you," Lisanna said, glaring at Bixlow as she defiantly grabbed a cookie from the platter.

"I'm glad to hear it. I can't thank you two enough for helping me."

"All in a day's work," Bixlow said modestly.

"Now, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you going to do with that ghost?" Granny inquired quizzically. "It's not like some sort of wild animal you're going to release, is it?"

"No, ghosts aren't wild animals. And if I did release him, he'd probably just come right back here. I'm gonna keep him contained in this soul glass. That's what I usually do with spirits I exorcise. I've got a nice little collection goin'."

"That's…lovely," said Granny. "It's good for young people to have hobbies."

"Boy, does he have hobbies," Lisanna muttered under her breath, biting into another cookie. "Are you going to need any more help around here? You know, fixing up the damage the ghost did?"

"Oh, well…no, I think I'll manage."

"Are you sure? I have a friend who's a plant mage. He could replenish your garden, at least," Lisanna offered. "And Bixlow could sew you a scarecrow."

"Oh! That would be wonderful!" Granny smiled at Bixlow benignly. "You really don't mind, young man?"

Bixlow frowned at Lisanna, who returned his sour expression with a grin. "Nah, I guess I don't mind," he said.

"_Mind, mind!_" said the babies.

"Although I do mind that you volunteered me," Bixlow growled under his breath. "And that you ate the rest of the cookies."

"Oh…oops."

"I'm never takin' you on another freakin' mission again."

"It's not like I asked to come. You invited me."

"That was before I knew what a pain you'd be." He stood up before Lisanna could retort, grabbing his backpack. "We'd better get goin'."

"Thanks again for all your help," Granny said.

Lisanna stood and the room spun, the floor shifting under her feet. She grabbed the table to keep from toppling over. "What the hell?!" Bixlow grabbed her before she collapsed and lowered her back into the chair. "Lisanna? What's wrong?"

"Don't…feel too good…"

"Oh, dear, I forgot to warn you," the old woman fretted, slapping her forehead. "It must be the jam. You did eat a lot of cookies, sweetie…not to mention the shot of whiskey for your pain…"

"Wait, are you sayin' there was booze in the jelly?" Bixlow deduced.

"I'm afraid so. I didn't think to say anything…I'm so sorry."

Bixlow threw back his head and laughed, causing the old lady to jump. "D'you hear that, Lisanna? You're hammered, and you didn't even realize it!"

"_Hammered!_" the babies giggled. "_Hammered!_"

"I am not drunk!" Lisanna denied. "I do not get drunk on missions! D'you hear _that_, Bixlow? Lisanna Strauss does not get drunk on missions."

"Oh, really? Then enlighten me on your present condition."

"I just had verti…vertr…I got dizzy," she said. "Probably because you poked me with a needle so much. I think you're a sadist. I think you _liked_ it."

"Right. The needle made you dizzy and I enjoy impaling the delicate flesh of young women," Bixlow scoffed. "I also eat the dreams of children for breakfast and kick adorable puppies in my spare time."

"…I knew it!"

Bixlow shook his head. "I can't believe this. I can't fuckin' believe this."

"I really am sorry," said Granny.

"S'nothin' for you to be sorry for, 'cept that I'm not the drunk one right now," Bixlow sighed. "Damn. This chick gets all the luck. Lightweights. Jeez."

They looked over at Lisanna, who was snoozing away with her cheek pressed into the table. "You two could stay here tonight," the old lady suggested. "I have a couch and some extra blankets…"

"Nah, don't worry about it," Bixlow said. He walked over and slipped his hand under Lisanna's knees and behind her back, lifting her in his arms. She yawned something that sounded suspiciously like, "Put me down, Bixlow," before nodding off again.

Granny opened the door for them, smiling affectionately. "You make sure you get that girl home safe and sound, alright?"

"Will do," Bixlow said. He slid through the door and walked down the lawn, Lisanna's head resting on his chest and her feet hanging over his arm. The old lady watched them go, fondly shaking her head.

"They are just the cutest couple I've ever seen," she declared. Bixlow's babies suddenly zoomed out of her cottage, giggling ferociously as they spun around in little loops, chanting, "_Cutest couple! Cutest couple!_"

Bixlow would have yelled at them to shut up, but he didn't want to wake Lisanna.


	5. Polishing

**Author's Note**: _UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHH. So. Busy. I'm a zombie student. This weekend alone I have two English essays, a book report for history, and three essays for college applications in addition to all the senior project crap I have to do in addition to the countless other assignments for my other classes. So, I repeat: UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHH. Zombie student. But I managed to make time for this! :D Mainly by procrastinating. This chapter is kind of fillerly, partly because it wasn't originally going to be a chapter until a suggestion from a review supplemented an idea I already kind of had. So it's like two ideas smooshed together. Enjoy my smooshing. :)_

* * *

**5. Polishing**

When Lisanna opened her eyes, she immediately wished she hadn't. The light stabbed her optic nerves like a thousand tiny knives, and she felt like someone was compressing her head. The last thing she remembered from the night before was eating cookies and bleeding. Bixlow must have brought her home after that.

Comforted by that thought, Lisanna sunk deeper into the blankets. She could sleep in, and then maybe go by the guild if she felt better later. She'd thank Bixlow for stitching up her arms and bringing her home. She could drink some tea just to get on his nerves.

Yawning, she rolled over and snuggled closer to the pile of stuffed animals she kept on her bed because she just couldn't bear to throw them on the floor. They had all been gifts from her parents when she was a little girl. Today they were particularly soothing and warm. She took a deep breath, expecting the familiar scent of lavender laundry detergent. Instead she caught a whiff of slight muskiness and warm skin. Strangely alarmed, Lisanna slowly opened her eyes and took a closer look around her.

The first thing she noticed was that the blankets weren't the right color. Her blankets were cheerful blue and orange stripes. These blankets were dark black, almost gray, and the sheets under her were a deep purple. She closed her eyes again, almost willing to pretend that it was a trick of the brain and go back to sleep. She didn't even want to see the supposed pile of stuffed animals she was cuddling with.

Eventually Lisanna mustered the courage. She opened one eye, then the other, and raised them both to see the face.

Her worst expectations were confirmed. There was no pile of stuffed animals next to her. Just one big, stupid jerk.

Bixlow slept on his stomach, one arm supporting his head, the other stretched out and curled around her shoulder like she was some kind of teddy bear. His cheek was squished into the pillow, contorting his slack face into one of a relaxed child, softening the sharp, angular features. Of course there was still the tattoo—what was that, a stick-figure or something?—across his nose and forehead, not to mention the smudged eyeliner and blue Mohawk. Lisanna watched him sleep for a moment, figuring that she'd probably never get another chance to see him like this again. Bixlow was different when he slept. Not vulnerable—Bixlow was never vulnerable—but he didn't look so…_hard_. He didn't have that sharp edge to him, that bite to his presence that told you he was about as pleasant and open as a cactus.

Lisanna almost felt bad when she smothered him with her pillow.

Almost.

He awoke with a jerk, grabbing her arms and throwing her off of him. He sat up, gasping, bewildered. The babies, who laid dormant on the nightstand next to him, soared into the air. The one damaged by the ghost wobbled below the others, barely managing to hover. When Bixlow's eyes rested on Lisanna, many emotions flashed across his face in the span of a few seconds—confusion, recognition, and finally outrage.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!" he cried.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with _you_?! Why I am I sleeping in your bed, you pervert?!"

"You know, most women make me breakfast when they wake up before me," Bixlow huffed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Sometimes they dump cold water on my face. I think you're the first to try to _smother me in my sleep_, though."

"Shocker."

"Sorry to disappoint, babe, but not all the women I sleep with are homicidal maniacs."

"No, I was referring to the part about them making you breakfast. I doubt any of the women who _consent_ to sleep with you have that much class," Lisanna snapped. "I honestly can't believe you! You took advantage of me! _What did we do last night, Bixlow?_"

"Don't flatter yourself," said Bixlow. "Nothin' happened. You got drunk off the spiked jam, and I was gonna carry you home, but my place was closer."

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain why you didn't just put me on the couch."

"A gentleman never lets a lady sleep on the couch."

"Then _you_ should have gone on the couch, lecher!"

"Trust me, I would've, but Evergreen was already crashin' on the couch," Bixlow explained, stretching. Lisanna blushed when she noticed he was shirtless. Just to reassure herself, she looked down and saw that she was fully clothed in the jeans and t-shirt she wore yesterday. "Apparently she and Fried went on a mission while we were gone, and she didn't feel like walkin' her happy tail down to Fairy Hills by the time they got back. Happens a lot, actually. So it was between sleepin' with me or Evergreen. And she's a biter."

Lisanna pursed her lips. "So…nothing happened last night? Nothing at all?"

"Nope. I tucked you in, snug as a bug in a rug, and then I laid down and went to sleep like a good little boy. It was hard, though." He grinned at her, wiggling his tongue. "Really hard."

"Disgusting," Lisanna sneered. She was too relieved to be genuinely upset anymore, though.

"You should know that you drool," Bixlow said. "Like a leaky pipe."

"I do not!"

"You do. There's a spot on my pillow. You're buying me a new one. Also, you hog the blankets. I was shiverin' all night long. Until, of course, you finally decided to be nice and cuddle."

Lisanna scowled. "Maybe you should have worn a shirt. And I didn't cuddle with you. Whatever I did while asleep doesn't count."

"How I wish you'd said that last night."

"It still counts for you, though."

"Ouch. Double standards." Bixlow gave her a mock pout. Then he grinned again. Lisanna was struck by how it transformed his face—without the mask, his smiles looked even crazier. "Has anyone ever told you how cute your little bedhead is?" He reached over and tousled her hair.

Lisanna slapped his hand away and threw the covers off, swinging her feet onto the floor. Her hands reflexively went to smooth down her hair, which she discovered did, indeed, probably look like dandelion fluff.

"Where's your bathroom?" she sighed, massaging her forehead. It throbbed painfully, but she wasn't sure if it was the hangover or Bixlow.

"Down the hall. And don't worry about runnin' in to Evergreen or Fried—they usually leave for the guild pretty early. They didn't know you were here."

"Good," Lisanna said. She turned on her heel and peeked into the hallway, just to make sure Bixlow was telling the truth. It seemed empty, though, so she padded down the hall and closed the door to the tiny bathroom, locking it behind her.

Lisanna looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was swollen and pink with sleep, her hair just as disheveled as one would expect. She lifted a hand to her cheek and discovered a crust of drool. Angrily she wiped it away with her hand, embarrassed at her sorry state. Lisanna wasn't one of those girls who woke up in the morning looking all adorable, not like Mirajane, who could probably shoot a commercial for a mattress warehouse with her morning appearance.

"Why does it even matter what you look like?" Lisanna asked her reflection. "It's not like Bixlow cares. It's not like _you_ care what he thinks."

Then she blushed, remembering what Bixlow looked like in bed. With muscles like those, he could probably pose as Mirajane's sexy boyfriend in the commercial, blue hair and all.

Lisanna splashed her face with cold water and smoothed down her nest of hair. Her complexion was still a little ruddy, so she decided to snoop around. It wasn't like Bixlow would respect her privacy if the roles were reversed. He would be all up in her feminine hygiene products.

Rolling her eyes at the thought, Lisanna opened the medicine cabinet and picked around. There wasn't much—two toothbrushes, toothpaste, a hairbrush, the usual toiletries one might find in a bathroom shared by two men and the occasional woman. Suddenly Lisanna wondered how often other women stood in this very bathroom, freshening up before walking back to their own apartment in the early hours of the morning. Had any of them actually stayed and made Bixlow breakfast? Had there ever been a third toothbrush in that cup on the shelf?

Lisanna's hand closed around an object tucked in the recesses of the cabinet as she pushed those inquiries from her mind. Curiously she withdrew it from the shelf, raising her eyebrows when she realized that it was a bottle of nail polish. She supposed that it shouldn't have been surprising—after all, Evergreen did frequent the house often, from what she could tell—only, Lisanna couldn't imagine Evergreen ever lathering her perfectly manicured nails in pitch black nail polish.

She put the nail polish back, closed the cabinet, and left the bathroom. "In here," Bixlow called from across the apartment when he heard the door open. Lisanna meandered her way to the kitchen, where Bixlow was sitting with his feet up on the table and a piece of toast in his hand. He was still shirtless, but he'd slipped on some pants over his boxers. Covering the table was an assortment of Bixlow's metal masks, dented or flawless, plain or ornate, rusted or shining. In a small clear space was a plate with two pieces of toast and a glass of water. "We don't got tea, but I'm makin' coffee if you want some," Bixlow greeted her as she sat down. He gestured to the coffee pot, which gurgled and produced a heavenly scent.

"Thank you," Lisanna replied, touched. "You didn't have to make me breakfast."

Bixlow snorted. "This ain't _breakfast_. Breakfast is pancakes and bacon and omelets and syrup. Lots and lots of syrup. I figured your poor lightweight stomach probably wasn't up for that, though."

"_Pancakes!_" his babies chirped, whizzing through the kitchen. "_Bacon! Omelets!_"

"Good call," Lisanna agreed. Her stomach twisted just at the thought.

"I make 'em sometimes," he grinned. He finished his toast in two big bites, then grabbed a rag from the table and began polishing one of the masks. Lisanna watched for a while, nibbling on her toast and sipping at her water until some of her nausea went away. Bixlow seemed very absorbed in the task—he didn't even notice her staring. He rubbed at the dirt on the metal and then stuck his tongue out at it, checking his reflection.

"Okay," Lisanna said finally, stifling a giggle. "What on Earthland are you doing?"

"Polishing my visors," Bixlow answered as though this were perfectly obvious. "I gotta look good, don't I?"

"Then why do you wear them in the first place?"

Bixlow's grin grew even wider. "You sayin' you like my face?"

"No, I'm just asking an innocent question," Lisanna retorted.

"I like wearin' 'em, I guess," Bixlow shrugged. "Besides, they're shiny. Look." He held the visor up for Lisanna to inspect. She stuck out her tongue at her warped reflection in the metal.

"Yeah, I can see the appeal," she admitted. "How often do you polish them?"

"About once a week. It's kind of relaxing. Like another hobby, you could say."

"I wouldn't," said Lisanna. She smirked. "Although, speaking of polish…I did notice there was some black nail polish in the bathroom."

Bixlow actually looked baffled. "Wha—that was in the cabinet!"

"No, it was on the counter," Lisanna fibbed.

"It wasn't! You were snoopin' around my stuff!"

"That's a heinous accusation."

"Ain't no accusation! It's the truth!" Bixlow frowned thoughtfully. "Huh. I feel…violated."

"_Violated! Violated!_" the babies sang.

Lisanna bit her lip, guilty. "Oh…sorry, I really didn't mean to—"

"No, no, this is new for me," Bixlow interrupted. "I'm takin' it in. I don't think I've ever experienced this feeling before. Kudos, kid."

"Um…thanks?"

"Why were you in my cabinet, anyway?"

"I just…I fell, and I happened to catch the cabinet in such a way that it opened…then a voice compelled me to look around in it."

"I don't believe you," Bixlow said, "but I'm willin' to let it go 'cause your excuse amuses me. What about the nail polish?"

"Well…why do you have it?"

"I paint my nails sometimes, obviously. What, d'you think that's weird?"

"I guess not. It's just…I can't really picture you giving yourself a manicure," Lisanna admitted thoughtfully.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bixlow said, holding up a hand. "Who said anything about a manicure? I just paint my nails."

"…Isn't that the definition of a manicure?"

"No. They are completely different."

"Riiight."

"I'll prove it. Go get it."

"Get what?"

Bixlow huffed. Lisanna _could_ actually see his eyes rolling this time. "The nail polish, duh."

"Are you going to paint your nails?" she asked.

"No, I'm gonna pour it down the drain," Bixlow snapped. "Seriously, how many stupid questions are you gonna ask?"

"Just one more. Why do I have to go get it?"

"Because I'm gettin' the coffee. And it's my house, so I can kick your pretty little ass out any time I want."

"What, is that a threat?" Lisanna snorted. But she hopped out of her chair and skipped to the bathroom without another complaint. She had just opened the medicine cabinet when she heard a knock on the front door. She poked her head out curiously to see who would be knocking on Bixlow's door at such an early hour.

The visitor knocked a second time before Bixlow made it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm comin'," he called.

No sooner had the door opened did a big, meaty hand reach in and grasp Bixlow's throat. The seith mage looked at once utterly terrified and surprised, his eyes going wide.

"WHERE. IS. MY. SISTER?!"

Lisanna felt the blood drain from her face. She recognized that voice. Hell, she recognized that hand—it was Elfman's Beast Soul arm. And although it wasn't transformed into anything, it was clear by Bixlow's purple face and the bulging veins on Elfman's hand that it might as well have been.

The horror only became worse when Lisanna heard another voice, this one lovely and female and laced with steel. "Don't even try to lie to us," Mirajane warned. "I saw you leave with her yesterday to go on a mission. Now you tell me what happened, or I swear I will claw your eyes out."

"Is she hurt?" Elfman snarled. "Did you lose her? Were you not manly enough to tell us as soon as you got back?"

Bixlow couldn't answer—his face was blue.

"Elf-bro! Mira!" Lisanna hurried to the front door, heading to Bixlow's rescue. Or so she thought. When they saw her, their eyes grew even wider and angrier.

"LISANNA!?" they cried simultaneously. Bixlow had the look of a cornered rabbit. His tiki dolls quivered in mid-air, too frightened to defend him.

"Yes! I'm fine, I'm not hurt or lost or—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Elfman roared and threw Bixlow across the room. He landed on the floor, coughing and sputtering. "YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER?!" he growled. "YOU BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"Oh, no," Lisanna squeaked. "Elfman, calm down! It's not what it looks like! Mira, help me out here!"

"Lisanna, I can't believe you! You know I'm supportive of your decisions, but this is moving way to fast! You're too young to engage in such irrational behavior! You and Bixlow have only been talking for a few days—only yesterday you were complaining about how much he annoys you—"

"COME HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN!"

"Lisanna! Stop standing there and help me, dammi—oomph!" Elfman had evidently tackled Bixlow with so much force that their momentum propelled them into the kitchen. Lisanna winced when she heard the clang of several metal masks hitting the floor. The girls hurried after them. Elfman had Bixlow pinned and was trying to punch him, but the elusive seith mage had both his arms in a grip. "Will someone control him, _please_?!" he cried, dodging a blind attack.

"Elfman, that's enough!" Lisanna yelled. She grabbed his arm and yanked him off of Bixlow, panting with the effort. "I told you! It's not what it looks like!"

Mirajane grabbed Lisanna's hand. "Come on, we're taking you home. Elfman, let's go. Lisanna will explain _exactly_ what she's doing here when this guy is out of our sights."

Elfman scowled and stood. "Don't think this is over, bastard," he told Bixlow, poking a thick sausage finger at his Bixlow's bare chest. Lisanna shot him an apologetic look as she was dragged from the premises. The door slammed behind them, knocking the last of the masks from the table.

Bixlow groaned and went limp, lying there for a second in the pile of metal debris. "Damn," he sighed, "usually I get in the girl's pants _before_ her brother punches me in the face and destroys something I own."

"_Pants! Pants!_" his babies chirped.

"Great. _Now_ you speak up."


	6. Babymaking

_**Author's note:** Finally, a breather! I tried to work on this whenever I got time, but I've been lacking in that. This was really only supposed to be a quick three-shot to distract me from the other two huge projects (one of which is completed after two years of writing, yay!), but it's quickly evolved into...several more chapters. Don't worry, this isn't the last one. There will be a definite conclusion! And yes, romance, I've decided. Gushy, fluffy, adorable romance that you can't escape from._

* * *

**6. Babymaking**

It took some time, but eventually Lisanna managed to convince her siblings that Bixlow had not taken advantage of her drunken state. "In fact, he was a complete gentleman," she fibbed. She regaled them with a retelling of the mission, how Bixlow had taken it knowing he wouldn't be paid properly, how he suggested she leave at the first sign of danger, how he heroically caught the ghost and sewed up her injuries, and finally how he carried her all the way to his house.

"I guess he's manlier than I thought," Elfman muttered after she was done. "But I'm not apologizing. A real manly man would have carried you home."

Mirajane was still unconvinced, but not about Bixlow. "Sounds like you're really getting to know each other," she cooed.

"Are you seriously implying that I am developing feelings for Bixlow only hours after you tried to kill him in his own home?" Lisanna deadpanned.

"I'm just saying that you two are spending an awful lot of time together," Mira quipped. "And it's not like I mind, as long as you're making responsible decisions. Bixlow does have quite the reputation among women, but from what you've told me he's treating you with a considerable amount of respect. For Bixlow, anyway."

"Right," Lisanna sighed. She didn't let Mirajane's words get to her—of _course_ there was nothing going on between her and Bixlow. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became. If Bixlow was truly interested in her, he would have made a move by now. A serious one, not some silly, raunchy pick-up line. She definitely wasn't harboring feelings for him, either. How could she? It was _Bixlow_.

Lisanna did feel a bit guilty for all the trouble she'd caused after the mission, though, so the next day she found herself strolling up the walkway to his front door to apologize. It took a few minutes for someone to answer, but eventually Bixlow opened the door, garmentless from the waist up.

"Don't you ever wear a shirt?" Lisanna blurted, heat rising to her face.

"Don't you ever start a conversation with 'hello'?" Bixlow countered, frowning down at her. "You didn't come to punch me, too, did you? 'Cause I don't really got the time."

Lisanna was shocked by his offensiveness. She bit back a retort and offered him the large plastic shopping bag in her hand. "That's actually what I came here to discuss. I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? Your brother assaulted me and ruined half of my visors. Some of those were really delicate."

"Well, he assaulted you because he _misunderstood_ the situation," Lisanna snapped. "He did what any big brother would do. It's not like he didn't have probable cause to worry. You don't exactly have a sparkling reputation."

"So it's my fault 'cause I've got a sex life?" Bixlow replied, lip curling.

"No, it's—it's no one's fault. It was a misunderstanding. Now I'm trying to make up for it, so take the damn apology gift before I change my mind!"

Bixlow raised an eyebrow at her and took the bag, digging around inside. He pulled out a fluffy white pillow, clean and new, and his eyebrows shot up even higher. "You…got me a pillow?"

"Yes. Since my chronic drooling ruined your other one." Lisanna crossed her arms. "If I remembered correctly, you demanded that I reimburse you. So there. Consider yourself reimbursed."

His mouth turned upwards at the corner. "This…has got to be the lamest apology gift ever."

"If you don't like it, I'll take it," said Lisanna, making a grab for the mattress accessory. Bixlow's smirk became a full-blown grin as he held it up over his head and out of her reach, planting his other huge hand on top of her head to keep her from jumping.

"Will you sleep with it and then give it back?" he asked, wiggling his tongue at her.

"You're disgusting!" Lisanna accused, shoving him away. She wasn't strong enough move him, though, she so ended up just standing there with her hands pressed to his chest. His big, broad, muscular chest…

Lisanna recoiled like she'd touched something hot (which, in a way, she had). Bixlow's hand slid from her hair and the babies zoomed over to retrieve the pillow, flying under it and carrying it above them. Lisanna blinked at them, doing a quick count.

"Why are there only four babies?" she inquired.

"Mm? Oh, Popo's doll wasn't doin' so hot after the ghost smashed it. I'm makin' him a new one." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Wanna see?"

Lisanna knew she probably shouldn't, but she found herself stepping inside the house anyway. It was brave of him to even invite her in after the last time. "Another hobby?" she said, glancing around the room. Carpentry tools and wood shavings littered the table next to a vaguely tiki-shaped hunk of dead tree.

"You could say that. The babies need lots of repairs and new hosts, so I make 'em," Bixlow explained. The four remaining babies zipped into the living room, lining up on the table in a neat row. "They're waitin' for Popo to rejoin them. Bein' an even numbered group is throwin' 'em off. Spirits like odd numbers—three, five, and seven in particular."

"Guess that explains a lot," Lisanan remarked, shooting him a smirk. "So your babies have names, huh?"

"Well, duh. What d'you think I call 'em?"

"I don't know. They've always just been 'babies'."

Bixlow snorted. "Well they gotta have _names_, don't they? That's Pepe, Papa, Pupu, and Pipi," he said, pointing to each one. "And this is gonna be Popo soon as I'm done."

"That's…adorable," said Lisanna, smiling.

"What?"

"All their names correlate. It's cute."

Bixlow grinned back at her. "You think I'm cute."

"I said _their names_ were cute. I didn't say anything about you."

"But I gave 'em their names! I gotta get some credit!"

"I suppose so," Lisanna admitted, tapping her chin thoughtfully. She peered down at the mass of wood, which had yet to take any discernible expression. "Is he going to look the same?"

"Why don't you stay and find out?"

"If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you like getting punched."

"By who? Your brother?" Bixlow shrugged. "You set him straight, didn't you? He doesn't think I'm tryin' to corrupt your oh-so-delicate sensibilities anymore. And I'm pretty sure the barmaid's rootin' for me, s'long as your panties don't melt away in my presence. So what's stoppin' you from hangin' out for a while?"

"_Hangin' out!_" the remainder of the babies warbled. "_Hangin' out!_"

"Nothing, I guess," Lisanna said. She hadn't quite reasoned it out like that.

Bixlow grinned triumphantly. "Excellent. Take a seat, and I'll get you started."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"It's rude to not supply your guest with a form of entertainment while you're otherwise occupied." He ducked behind the table and emerged with a cube of wood and a utility knife. "Honestly, Lisanna. Don't you know anything about common curtesy?"

"It's fine, I'll just watch you," Lisanna said as he shoved the materials in her hands and sat her down in the chair next to him.

"Nonsense. I'll show you the basics."

"Bixlow," Lisanna scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "It's carving a hunk of wood. How hard can it be?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounds like you think woodcarving is _easy_," Bixlow said, amused. His quartet of dolls sang, "_Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy!_" behind him.

"You said it, not me," Lisanna shrugged.

"Fine, then. Have at it." Bixlow panted himself in his chair and picked up what was to be Popo, dexterously carving with his own knife. Lisanna could feel his eyes watching her as she awkwardly picked up the cube of wood and the utility knife. She carefully chipped at the surface, peeling off a small splinter of wood. She glanced up to find Bixlow giving her a mocking smirk.

"What?" she growled.

"You sure you don't want help?"

"Why don't you focus on your own project?" she retorted, staring pointedly at his still hands.

He chortled and began carving smooth shavings from his doll. They fell on the table in thin, curling strips. Lisanna narrowed her eyes and discreetly copied his motions, although she only succeeded in further scarring the surface of the wood.

They whittled away in silence for a while. Lisanna had a nice, jagged crevasse in her cube when Bixlow asked, "So, what are you making? A volcano?"

"Maybe it's a sculpture of your big mouth."

"Ouch. Harsh."

"That's right. Be in pain."

"Speaking of which," Bixlow began, "how're your arms? Didja get the dragonslayer girl to look at you?"

Lisanna glanced down at her forearms, still wrapped tight in white gauze. "Yes. She was really impressed with your handy work. Gave me a salve to prevent infection and help with the pain." Not that it did much—her arms still ached constantly, but she wouldn't admit that to Bixlow. It had only been one day. Perhaps Wendy's salve needed time to work effectively. That's what Mira had suggested, at least.

"Told you, you didn't have anything to worry about," Bixlow said cockily. "I'm a master seamstress."

"I'm not sure that's something to brag about," Lisanna giggled.

"Hey. When the going gets tough, the tough get sewing."

"_Tough, tough!_" the babies chirped.

"Thanks again for doing that," Lisanna said. "And carrying me home. Well, here. To not-a-stranger's house."

"Mention it," Bixlow requested. "I like praise. And pillows. You can bring me more of those, if you want. I'll even let you use 'em."

"That's awfully considerate of you," said Lisanna, rolling her eyes.

"Considerate's my middle name."

Lisanna smirked. "Now that I think about it, you've never told me your middle name. You've never even said your last name."

"And I never will."

"Why? Is it embarrassing?"

"Nope."

"Then why not?"

He sighed. "If you must know, my full name is Bixlow Sexy Beast."

"Bixlow! Be serious!"

"Why don't you tell me your middle name, then, hot stuff?"

"I don't have one," Lisanna said smugly.

"What?" Bixlow exclaimed. "What kind of soulless, depraved person doesn't have a middle name?"

Lisanna pointed to herself.

"Well, that's unacceptable. It's a crime against nature."

"Stop avoiding the question."

"I'll have to christen you."

"Oh, boy."

Bixlow tapped his chin with the point of his utility knife, deep in thought. Finally he snapped his fingers. "I got it. How about Lisanna Sizzles Strauss."

"Lisanna Sizzles? What am I, a rapper?"

"You're right. That's too funky-fresh," Bixlow agreed. "What do you think about Gretchen?"

"Lisanna Gretchen Strauss? Ew."

"It's kind of sexy."

"Only if you're a yodeler with a lederhosen fetish."

"Come on, everyone's gotta have an embarrassing middle name."

"Ah-ha! So yours is embarrassing!"

"I'm not everyone," Bixlow countered.

"I won't tell anyone. Pinkie swear." Lisanna offered her little finger, smiling benignly.

"It's not important what my name is," Bixlow said, going back to his woodcarving. "It's not part of who I am anymore."

Lisanna lowered her pinkie, sobered. "…Okay," she relented. She grabbed her knife and absently poked at her cube, wondering if she could somehow carve it into anything vaguely recognizable. Bixlow started sanding his creation, smoothing out the rough edges. Lisanna still couldn't see the face, but she knew his tiki doll looked much better than her blob of wood. Jealously she ran her thumb across a ragged edge and yelped when a sharp pain pierced the skin. She brought it to her mouth, hoping to relieve the smarting sensation.

"What?" Bixlow inquired. "You didn't cut yourself, did you?"

"No," Lisanna said. She looked at her thumb, which now sported an impressive sliver of wood. "I got a splinter."

Bixlow snorted. "A splinter? Really?"

"Don't laugh! It really hurts!" Lisanna cradled her injured hand crossly. "Why do I always end up getting hurt whenever you're around?"

"Are you kidding me?! Last time we were together, I was the one who almost got beat to a pulp!"

"_Pulp, pulp, pulp!_" the babies mocked.

"Yeah, but I almost got my head sliced off by a ghost, which is, like, ten times worse. And now I've got a splinter. What if it gets infected, Bixlow? My _thumb_ could come off!" She wiggled it for dramatic effect. "My _thumb_!"

"Oh, for Mavis's sake, give it here," Bixlow demanded, grabbing her wrist. Lisanna winced at the jolt of stinging pain that went up her arm, but she didn't cry out. He inspected her critical thumb closely, twisting it at an odd angle to get a better look. "I get these all the time. S'no big deal. Nothin' some tweezers won't fix."

"Tweezers?"

"Yeah, I got some in the bathroom. I'll be right back." He stood up and disappeared down the hall. Lisanna heard the bathroom light flick on. She glanced at her thumb, which was red around the invasive black shaving. Curiously she picked up the unfinished tiki doll, turning it to see its face. It was similar to the others, a big happy grin and two round eyes with wings sprouting from either side, but not exactly the same as before. There was more detail in this one, more embellishment on the wings, a steeper upturning of the mouth…

"You're a nosy one, you know that?" Bixlow criticized, returning with the tweezers. "First you're up in my medicine cabinet, snoopin' around my nail polish, and then you're askin' about my middle name, and now this."

"What can I say, you're more interesting than I thought." She turned the flawless tiki doll so it was facing him and frowned. "Is there anything you _aren't_ good at?"

"I'm sure there is. Just haven't found it yet," said Bixlow modestly, shooting her a tongue-wagging grin. He stuck out his hand. "Lemme see that splinter."

Lisanna gave him her hand. He pulled it close to his face and inspected the sore thumb for a moment, prodding at it with his calloused fingers. Lisanna grimaced when he pinched and then pulled out the sliver of wood with the tweezers. "Got it," he declared. "See, that wasn't so bad."

"I guess not," said Lisanna awkwardly. Bixlow was still holding her hand.

"…You're bleeding a little," he said after a few beats, finally releasing her. There was indeed a small bright pearl of blood on her thumb. Lisanna brought it to her mouth again.

"That's alright, I don't think it requires stitches or anything," she joked.

"Good, 'cause I wasn't offering," Bixlow retorted. He pointed at her woodcarving. "So, you gonna finish that or what? I still gotta stain mine."

"What do you mean? It's finished."

He quirked an eyebrow. "What's it supposed to be?"

"It's _abstract_, obviously," Lisanna huffed. "Don't you understand art?"

"No. But I know crap when I see it."

Lisanna stuck out her tongue. "I can't stay, anyway. I told the animal shelter I'd help out again today, so they'll be expecting me soon. I'll see you around, though."

"Yeah, see you around," Bixlow agreed, although his tone suggested that he doubted it.

As the door closed behind her, Lisanna felt the fib in her words, too. She couldn't think under what circumstances she'd ever interact with Bixlow like she had the past few days. He might hit on her again at the guild, but when would they ever get the chance to do something like this again? Even Bixlow had to run out of hobbies eventually.

The thought opened up some loss in her chest, a bit of sadness that surprised her. She considered turning back, but she was already running late. And what would she say? _I miss you already, when can I see you again?_ Lisanna could already imagine Bixlow's response: cruel, mocking laughter. _How desperate are you, hot stuff?_

She continued down the pathway, crossing her arms over her chest. Once she thought she heard the door open and wheeled around eagerly, hoping to see Bixlow standing there, calling after her. But it was just the bitter autumn wind.


	7. Drawing

**Author's Note:** _I told you it wasn't the end! Those of you who read me should know that I hardly ever end my stories on such a tragic, melodramatic note. There is almost always a happy ending. So fear not. Brace yourselves. Winter is coming. But in this story, it's a good thing. ...You'll see what I mean later._

_Sorry for the wait and the length...stress...work...blurgh..._

* * *

**7. Drawing**

Lisanna didn't exactly know why she went running to him in her time of crisis. All she knew was that when she burst through the doors of the guild, chest heaving from the run, his grin was the first thing she laid her eyes on.

"Bixlow!" she huffed, rushing over to him. He was sitting at a table with Evergreen and Fried. It was still early in the morning, so they weren't deep in their cups yet. The triple looked startled at her panicked appearance. Bixlow's grin turned down at the corners.

"Lisanna?" he said. "What's up?"

"I can't find Nina!" she cried. "I had her in a carrier and I set it down to look at the books on clearance at the book store on my way home and when I looked back she was gone! Someone took her!"

"…Who the hell is Nina?" Bixlow asked, confused. The babies, including the shiny new Popo, chirped, "_Nina? Nina?_"

"The kitten I'm fostering!"

"You can do that?" Fried said.

"The shelter lets their volunteers take orphan kittens home because they need constant attention," Lisanna explained. "Until they're old enough to be adopted, then we have to give them back. They gave me Nina and now I lost her!"

"Why would someone steal a cat?" Bixlow pondered incredulously.

"I hear they make nice companions," Fried said.

"Or maybe someone thought it was a purse," Evergreen suggested.

"Well, Nina is a special, rare breed," Lisanna admitted, biting her lip. "She's probably worth a lot of money for breeding...or pageants..."

"They have cat pageants?" Bixlow chuckled.

"This isn't funny! It's a big deal! I was responsible for her and now she's gone. The shelter's never going to trust me with an animal again. I'm going to lose a major source of income!" Lisanna sniffed. "And poor Nina...there's no telling what she's going through right now..."

"I'm not really seeing what you want me to do," Bixlow said.

Evergreen slapped the back of his head. "Go help her look for it, idiot!"

"Hey, it's not like I lost it!" Bixlow snapped back at her.

"Ugh, you're such a jerk!" Lisanna accused, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't know why I even came to you for help!" She stormed away. Bixlow gaped after her, bewildered, and then turned to Evergreen with a scowl.

"Why'd you make me say that, huh?!"

"Hey, it's not like I said it," Evergreen mocked.

"That _was_ pretty low," Fried agreed. "You should go apologize."

"Why? It's true. I have no obligation to go help her look for the stupid cat."

"_Kitty-cat, kitty-cat_!" the babies squealed.

"No, but you implied it was her fault that someone stole it," Fried explained. "It's like telling a grieving mother that she if she'd watched her child more closely at the mall and he wouldn't have been abducted."

"But that's not what I—you're twisting my words around, dammit!"

"I'm just giving you insight into the female mind," Fried shrugged.

Evergreen gave him a look. "What would _you_ know about the female mind?"

"What I'm saying is accurate, is it not?"

"…Yeah, pretty much," she begrudgingly admitted.

Bixlow sighed and glanced over his shoulder at Lisanna, who was explaining the situation to Mirajane with exaggerated hand gestures. And damn it. She was crying. "S'this cat made out of freakin' gold or somethin'?" he muttered, pushing himself out of his seat. Evergreen and Fried silently watched as he shuffled over to the bar and plopped down in the stool next to her.

"Huh," Fried said, "I didn't actually expect him to get up."

"Me neither," Evergreen admitted. "You know, maybe we don't give him enough credit."

They glanced at each other and broke into laughter.

* * *

"…sorry, Lisanna, but Reedus isn't here," Mirajane was saying as Bixlow neared the bar. "He took a job yesterday and won't return until this afternoon."

"What d'you need Reedus for?" Bixlow inquired.

Lisanna gave him a look that could wilt flowers, although it was mitigated by the glittering tears on her cheeks. She may not have been blessed with looking cute in the mornings, but she was one of those rare girls who could cry their eyes out and look gorgeous doing it. "To make posters," she snapped. "Not that you care."

Mirajane backed away slowly, giving Bixlow a 'you're really in for it' sort of expression.

"Look," Bixlow grunted. "If you need help, I can make your posters."

"_Posters, posters!_" the babies shrieked.

"What do _you_ know about drawing?" Lisanna said, curiosity piqued despite her anger and distress. "Don't tell me it's another one of your hobbies."

"Reedus gave me lessons a while back," Bixlow said, "while you were dead."

"I wasn't dead, I got sucked into the Anima—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I wanted to learn how to draw, Reedus needed some extra cash, so we made a deal. He taught me."

Lisanna gave him a dubious look.

"Don't believe me?" Bixlow reached across the bar and grabbed the notepad and pen Mirajane had to keep track of the ongoing polls in the guild. He was irritated to see that he and Lisanna were the latest fascination, with bets as to when they would get together ranging from 'two weeks' to 'no chance in hell.' He tore out that page and crumpled it into a ball, tossing it behind him for the babies to juggle into the waste bin. Then he poised the pencil over the paper and looked expectantly at her. "Tell me what it looked like."

"Well," Lisanna sighed, figuring she might as well humor him, "she was tiny, maybe around six inches long. She had two big blue eyes, and she was orange-and-gold stripped, with a white starburst on her forehead and a white mouth. Her nose was little and pink and adorable. Her ears were tipped with brown, almost caramel. Her paws were white and she had a little white belly."

Bixlow scribbled on the notepad for a few moments, occasionally asking her to repeat a detail. Finally he turned it over and showed her the drawing. It was a small, soft kitten curled up in a ball, and although it was only in pencil, the tones suggested it was probably a tabby. Underneath he'd written the details.

Lisanna's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, Bixlow, that's actually pretty good."

"I know," he scoffed. "That's what you get for doubting me."

"So, now what?"

"Go look for your cat some more. I'll take this somehwere and get it copied. Meet me back here in an hour?"

"Okay. Thanks, Bixlow." Before she could stop herself, Lisanna had leaned over and given him a kiss on the cheek. He caught a glimpse of her scarlet face as she zoomed across the guild and out into the cold November morning.

Bixlow was left sitting there, feeling stunned and strangely warm despite the chill in the air. He turned in his stool to find Mirajane staring at him with an equally shocked, open-mouthed grin. His eyes roamed the perimeter to discover that the rest of the guild was in a similar state, minus the grin. Macao scooted closer and discreetly handed a few jewels to the barmaid.

"Raise me to this afternoon, Mira."


	8. Gymnastics

**Author's Note:** _Almost finished! Just one more chapter after this one! :D Thanks for all the support, guys, even though I know I've been slacking with the updates lately. If you're reading this, you're the best!_

* * *

**8. Gymnastics**

Bixlow rubbed his hands together as Lisanna taped the last poster onto a lamp post. "These really turned out nicely," she praised, stepping back to admire the work. "Thanks again for helping me, Bixlow."

"I just can't believe it's been two hours and we still ain't found anything," the seith mage complained, jamming his hands in his pockets. It was cold even though it was approaching noon. He felt like his toes and fingers were about to fall off. Lisanna looked just as cold. Her teeth had been chattering for the past thirty minutes, and was it just his imagination, or were her lips starting to turn blue?

"I can't give up! Nina was my responsibility, so I absolutely have to find her!" Lisanna proclaimed, dedicated. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, especially on such a nasty day. I wouldn't blame you if you went back to the guild."

Bixlow sighed, expelling a cloud of white breath. "C'mon, we'll walk back together."

"But—"

"The bookstore's on the way there, so we'll drop by and talk to the owner, see if he saw somethin'." He planted a hand on the top of her head and tousled her white hair. "We roamed the block and put up all these posters. Aside from talkin' to the owner, there's nothin' we can do but wait."

"_Wait, wait_!" the babies chirped.

Lisanna bit her lip and nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

They backtracked to the used bookstore where Nina had disappeared. Some of the shelves were outside on the street under an awning, but most were inside in the warmth of the store. Lisanna stopped in front of one of the outside shelves and planted her feet. "This is where I was standing when they took her," she said, staring hard at their reflections in the shop window. She placed her hands on the tops of the books, frowning. "I was just looking for a new book to read."

"That's what you get for actin' all _educated_," said Bixlow. He reached out and removed her hands from the books, sandwiching them between his own. "Your fingers are freakin' purple. Don't you wear gloves, babe?"

"I…I didn't think about it," Lisanna mumbled, blushing. Bixlow's hands were big and warm and calloused as they kneaded heat back into hers. She felt heat in her stomach, too, and in her face. "You're not wearing gloves either, hypocrite."

"That's 'cause I'm hot enough already," Bixow replied. He tugged her toward the store. "C'mon, let's see what the owner's got to say."

The owner was a middle-aged man as moth-eaten as his merchandise. He looked up from his desk when the bell chimed their arrival and smiled benignly from behind his round, wire-rimmed spectacles. "Welcome! You two must be freezing. I've just made some hot tea, if you'd like to stay and browse."

"Tea again," Bixlow grumbled. "Why does everyone like this 'tea' stuff?"

"_Tea, tea, tea_!" the babies chanted merrily.

"Excuse me, I was here earlier," Lisanna said to the shop owner. "I was just outside that window, and I had a cat carrier. Did you happen to notice anyone else pass by?"

"Ah, I knew you looked familiar!" the owner said, snapping his fingers together. "I remember looking out the window and noticing you because…well, excuse me for saying so, but you were so beautiful. I'm afraid I didn't notice a cat carrier, though."

"Surprise, surprise," Bixlow muttered under his breath. Who would notice a detail like that when Lisanna was standing there to look at?

"Thank you," Lisanna sighed, deflated.

Bixlow reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled drawing of the cat. "Oi, you see this cat, let us know, will ya?"

"Definitely," the owner promised.

As they left the shop, Lisanna realized that Bixlow was still holding her hand, probably an absent gesture he hadn't even noticed. She ran her thumb across his palm, looking down at their entwined fingers. Bixlow paused and followed her gaze. "Ugck," he choked, almost violently releasing her hand. Lisanna blinked at him and immediately burst into laughter, doubling over from the force of it. "What?!" Bixlow roared, sneering.

"Wh-what was that noise?!" Lisanna gasped, tears streaming down her face. "I—I don't think I've ever heard anyone make that s-sound before!"

Bixlow grinned at her. "Oh, you'd be surprised at all the noises I can make."

"You're so perverse," Lisanna sighed, smacking his arm. "You know, I really should be offended. It sounded like you were pretty disgusted."

"Maybe I was," Bixlow retorted.

Lisanna tossed her hair haughtily. "My apologies. I didn't realize I was so repulsive."

"Not you, stupid," Bixlow said, flicking her head. "All that gushy, romantic crap. Hand-holding, snuggling—it ain't for me."

"_Not for me, not for me_!" the babies chorused.

"Not from what I've observed," Lisanna chided.

"Oh? And what, exactly, have you observed?"

"Well, you made it a point to elaborate on how elated you were when I snuggled with you that night you took me to your house," she said.

"That was only 'cause you'd hogged the blankets," Bixlwo growled.

"Mmhm. And, also, you were the one who grabbed my hand just now."

"'Cause they looked like they were gettin' ready to fall off!"

"Whatever you say," Lisanna sang. "If you ask me, I think it's kind of nice."

"Who asked you?" Bixlow grouched.

"You know what I think? I think you're just a big softy on the inside," Lisanna continued. "I think you secretly crave all that affectionate stuff, you just don't know how to show it."

"I think you're confusin' me with Black Steel Gajeel," Bixlow snorted. "I ain't got no trouble showin' how I feel. When I want somethin' I get it, and when I don't, I don't go after it."

"By 'something' you mean women?"

"Exactly."

"You know, we're not _things_, Bixlow," Lisanna frowned. "We have feelings. And the same goes for you, and I know it, so don't even try to convince me otherwise."

"Look, I ain't some manipulative womanizer, okay?" Bixlow huffed. "It's not like I lie to a woman to get in her pants and then bail. They always know what they're gettin' into. They're always usin' me the same way I'm usin' them."

"That's…sad," Lisanna said.

Bixlow shrugged. "Call it what you want. It's what happens."

"Don't you ever want something more?"

"…Sometimes," Bixlow answered, giving her a smirk. "When I meet a girl who ain't boring."

Lisanna gulped, her heart skipping a beat. "A…am I…boring?"

Bixlow's grin grew wider. He planted a hand on the wall beside her, blocking her path, and leaned down until his lips brushed her ear. "If you were," he whispered, "why would I still be here?"

Lisanna leaned against the wall for support, since her knees weren't doing a very good job at holding her up anymore. Bixlow moved closer, almost completely obstructing her vision of the street, leaning in. She almost closed her eyes as the cold metal of his mask brushed her forehead.

Then, over his shoulder, she saw it. The cat carrier, a bright blue smudge with white polka-dots, heading further down the street. Lisanna gasped and knocked Bixlow's head away, eliciting another faint, "Ugck!"

"What the hell?!" he cried when he'd recovered. "You made me bite my tongue!"

"Bixlow, it's Nina! That's her carrier!" Lisanna exclaimed, pointing. She took off down the street after the shrinking blue dot. She ran until the crowd engulfed it and she lost sight of it completely. She stopped, panting at the exertion, hopelessly looking around for the kitten's carrier.

She heard a whistle from above and saw Bixlow zooming ahead, balanced on his babies in a line formation. "I see him!" he called. Lisanna nodded and followed him on foot, keeping an eye out for the abductor.

Bixlow dived down into an alley. Lisanna skidded to a stop and turned. She saw the kittynapper sprinting down the alley, but Bixlow was hot on his trail. He catapulted off the floating babies, flipped in midair, and landed squarely on the perpetrator.

"And he sticks the landing!" he declared, hoisting the man to his feet. Lisanna hurried over, grinning.

"That was impressive, Bixlow! I didn't know you could move like that!"

"Oh, I've got all sorts of moves," he said modestly, wiggling his tongue. "I was in gymnastics for years."

Lisanna smiled. "Another hobby?"

"You know it."

"Nina!" Lisanna cried, snatching the kitten as it poked its nose from the cat carrier. She snuggled it to her face. "I was so worried! Poor thing, you're shaking!"

"Who's this guy, anyway?" Bixlow said. He pulled back the hood of the cloak and gasped.

"The bookstore owner?!" they said simultaneously.

The middle-aged man gaped at them from behind his askew wire spectacles. "You d-don't understand! I was returning it to you!"

"Is that why you ran away?" Bixlow said.

"I—I didn't want you to get the wrong idea!"

"Wait a second!" Lisanna cried. "I recognize you now, with your cloak! You lied! I noticed you walked into the store while I was outside. You couldn't have seen me from inside your store. I bet you passed the carrier and hid it in the folds of your cloak!"

"Too bad you didn't think of that this time," Bixlow snorted. He squeezed the man's arms. "I suggest you don't lie to her again."

"Fine, fine, it was me!" the owner confessed. "I stole your cat!"

"But why?"

"My neighbor…her cat just died. It was a rare breed that was a gift from her husband before he passed away. She's very upset, and she refuses to purchase another…I just figured that if I were to give her one…" the man sighed and trailed off, slumped over.

Lisanna blinked. "You…you did it because you're in love with your neighbor?"

"She's been a widow for five years. Her husband and I were good friends. We ran the shop together," the man explained. "All I want is for her to be happy again. I can't afford a cat that's so rare, though."

"Shit, how much is that kind of cat worth?" Bixlow muttered.

"A million jewels," said the man bitterly. "Within the right circles."

Bixlow gave the mewing kitten, which was now nibbling Lisanna's finger, an incredulous look. "Are you sure that thing ain't made of gold?!"

"I…I'm sorry," Lisanna said finally.

"What?!" the two men exclaimed together. "Why are _you_ apologizing?"

"I wish I could give you this cat, but it's not my place," Lisanna said. "She belongs to the animal shelter, and it's my responsibility to take care of her before she's old enough for adoption. There are already buyers interested in her and willing to pay more than the standard fee. I'm afraid I can't let you have Nina."

"I understand," the man wheezed, dejected.

"But I don't think that your neighbor needs a cat to make her happy," Lisanna continued, gently prying the cat carrier from the man's hands. She placed Nina inside and smiled. "I think what she needs is a visit from a friend." The man gazed at her as she stood up. "Come on, Bixlow, let's go home."

"That's it?" Bixlow complained, releasing the man. "No smack-down? No lecture?"

"No. I'm ready for a nice glass of hot chocolate. My treat."

"Now you're talkin'!" Bixlow stepped over the man, paused, and turned around, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Look here, buddy. You're gettin' off easy. F'you try somethin' like this again, my babies and I'll snap your arms off."

"_Snap, snap_!" the babies squealed.

The shopkeeper nodded. "I understand."

"Bixlow!"

"Eh, I'm comin'! Don't rush me, woman!" He jogged to catch up to Lisanna, who was already at the end of the alley.

"What did you say to that poor man?" she snapped.

"Nothin'. Just some friendly romantic advice."

"From someone who doesn't even like hand-holding?"

"Old people don't hold hands, anyway."

Lisanna rolled her eyes. "Well, I still think it's kind of nice."

"Only if it's necessary," Bixlow said. He reached out and grabbed her free hand, entwining their fingers. "Like on cold days when someone's hands are gonna fall off."

Lisanna blushed and placed a hand on her chest, blinking up at him earnestly. "Aw, you do care!"

"If you're gonna make a big deal out of it, I'll let go! Enjoy frostbite!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

The kitten poked her head out at the commotion, letting out a faint, "Mrow?" Her ear was partially caught in the flap of the carrier, folding it down. Bixlow wrinkled his nose at it.

"Damn. I can't believe it's worth a million bucks."

"Yeah."

"D'you know what I could do with that money?"

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"I could spend it to learn new hobbies," Bixlow pondered. "Like…underwater basket weaving. Or unicycling."

Lisanna smiled affectionately. "You know," she said, "I have hobbies, too."

"Oh? Like what?"

They stopped in front of the guild and she raised an eyebrow at him, her smile growing wider and mischievous. She leaned forward until he could feel her warm breath on his neck. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see," she whispered. Then she retreated, removed her hand, and skipped into the guild ahead of him.

Bixlow stared after her, dazed. His face broke out into a full-force tongue-wagging grin and he slinked in after her, laughing to himself. _Nope_, he thought. _Not boring at all_.


	9. Ice skating

**_Author's Note:_** _Last chapter, folks! It's been a fun snowball of a story, but alas, the time has come for it to stop rolling. It really was supposed to be a quick three-shot, but then suggestions and plot bunnies happened. I think the story is better for it though. I'd like to thank everyone who gave their valuable time to read, favorite, and/or review, and a particular thanks to _**dragonslayer437**_ and _**arunedel**_, who both gave hilarious and helpful suggestions for Bixlow's hobbies that propelled this story even further. Also a shout out to _**Ulcaasi**_, who always notices grammar mistakes (that I promise I will eventually get around to fixing!) and is always helping me improve. I think _**Smashing Skunk53**_ also deserves some recognition for calling me their "favorite little tugboat" which...I strangely liked, for some reason._

_Anyway, fear not, dearest readers! I know LisBix stories are few and far between, but there shall be more from this author very soon! I will not stop until the LisBix revolution has gripped then entire fanfiction community, until I am satisfied with the quality and quantity of the LisBix stories available for my entertainment! And even then, I will not stop!_

_Seriously, I'm in love with them. __So if you have an idea, write it. Please? I'm really tired of reading what few there are. _

_Smurf is signing off...until next time, my pretties!_

* * *

**9. Ice skating**

Lisanna grinned and tugged at Bixlow's arm, urging him to walk faster. "Come on, hurry up! We don't have all night."

"I don't think the lake is gonna thaw in the few minutes it takes us to get there," Bixlow said, maintaining his frustratingly sluggish pace as he stomped through the snow. The fluffy white precipitation had been falling at a steady rate for the past week, coming down from the blank gray slate of clouds that blocked any traces of blue. Even now, in the darkness of night, he could see the layer shifting across the sky, blotting out the stars. It made him feel cooped up, like he was surrounded in a cocoon of cotton. Really, really cold cotton.

Everyone else seemed to like it, though. Fairy Tail was having a blast, what with the daily snowball fights and snowmen and igloos constructed along the property. Lisanna in particular loved the snow. She bounced around in it like a white rabbit, blue eyes bright enough to make up for the missing sky.

"It's not a lake, it's a pond," she corrected as they trudged on, leaving deep gray footprints in the snow. Bixlow had made a game of stepping on her little footprints, completely engulfing them in his own. It was part of the reason he walked so slowly.

"What's the difference?"

"A lake is bigger. Deeper. This is a small one, just big enough for two or three people," Lisanna explained. She smiled. "Elf-nii and I found it when we were kids. I didn't realize it was still here until he mentioned it the other day. We went looking for it and it was completely frozen. Perfect for ice skating."

"Why take me, then?" Bixlow asked curiously. "Why not your brother? Or the barmaid?"

"Because I thought it would be fun to skate with you," Lisanna said.

To his surprise, Bixlow felt his ears heat up. He was suddenly glad for the darkness, and for his hood. Blushing wasn't something that happened to him very often, but when it did, it happened _everywhere_.

He gave her a trademark Bixlow grin, brushing it off. "Oh, yeah?"

She nodded. "We're almost there," she added, pointing. "It's just through those trees."

The bare trees broke into a white clearing. There was a small circle of water in the center, completely frozen, reflecting the silver light of the moon like a mirror. They stood on the fringe and took it in, bundled up in their coats and scarves.

"Are you sure that's not a lake?" Bixlow asked. His babies chorused, "_Lake, lake_!"

"I'm sure," Lisanna said dryly. She held up the two pairs of ice skates, one pair black and clunky, the other white and dainty. The black pair belonged to Elfman, which Bixlow was using since he didn't own any ice skates and, coincidentally, they wore the same size shoe. "Are you ready for this?"

"I'm ready for anything." He took the ice skates and followed Lisanna to the pond. She sat by the edge and removed her shoes, quickly replacing them with the skates. Bixlow followed suit, discreetly glancing over at her to make sure he was tying them correctly. She stood, balancing on the thin edge of the metal blade.

"Having some issues?" she asked.

Bixlow tied the last knot, glaring. "No."

"Have you ever done this before, Bixlow?"

"'Course I have," he scoffed, struggling to get to his feet. It took him a few tries, but eventually he managed to stand, leaning slightly on the babies as they held him steady from behind.

Lisanna shrugged and skated backward onto the pond, grinning at him. Her sleek hair gleamed like glistening icicles in the moonlight and cast her pale face in shadow. Bixlow noted the challenge in her eye and frowned.

"You know, just because you're not sayin' anything doesn't mean I can't tell when you're mockin' me."

"I'm not mocking you," Lisanna argued. "I'm just waiting to see you skate."

Bixlow swallowed. The babies gave him a little push, and he moved across the ice a few centimeters. "There, ya see? I skated."

"It doesn't count if you use magic," Lisanna sang, spinning in a little circle. Her skates made a scraping sound on the ice and formed slim, graceful grooves in its shining surface. "Just admit you've never skated before and you don't know how. It's okay."

"I'll admit nothing," Bixlwo snapped. He tried to take a step forward with his skate and wobbled, but managed to stay upright.

"You're doing well."

"Stop patronizing me."

"I'm not patronizing. I'm encouraging." Lisanna stopped spinning in front of him, arching an eyebrow and placing her hands on her hips. "You know, if you just admit that you don't know how to ice skate, I could teach you."

"Why do I get the feelin' that you set all this up just so you could rub it in my face that you can do somethin' better than me?"

"It sounds petty when you say it like that," Lisanna complained.

"How else am I s'posed to say it?"

"I just wanted to show you a hobby of mine," she said, sticking her hands in the pockets of her coat. "I figured…well, since you pretty much took me along…I'd do the same."

"So it's a 'show me yours and I'll show you mine' situation?" Bixlow said.

"Pretty much," Lisanna smirked.

"I like the sound of that," Bixlow said, wiggling his tongue at her.

She laughed and held out her hands. "Come on, I'll help you. Get the babies to push and I'll pull. Together we should be able to lug your sorry ass around the pond."

"Oi, leave my sorry ass outta this." Bixlow reconsidered the statement as he took Lisanna's hands. "On second thought, don't. You can include my sorry ass if you want."

"Duly noted," Lisanna snorted. She tugged and guided Bixlow along the pond, skating backward and directing the movements of his feet. Soon they were in the middle of the pond, skating above the watery depths.

"Ain't you worried about the ice breakin'?" he asked.

"No, it's been frozen solid for a few days now, and it's only getting colder. Besides, Elf-nii's fallen on his face more times than I can count. I don't think you have anything to worry about." She smiled. "So, do you feel like I can take the training wheels off yet?"

"I think I'm gettin' the hang of it."

Lisanna released his hands and slowly skated away, watching with anticipation as he clumsily inched along the ice alone. "This ain't so hard," he said, but as soon as the words left his mouth, his feet gave out from under him and he busted his ass on the ice. He blinked up at the fuzzy sky for a moment, stunned, and let out a groan.

"Holy crap, are you okay?!" Lisanna said, gliding over on her skates. Laughter colored her voice—obviously she was quite amused with Bixlow's failure.

"Peachy," he quipped.

"I didn't think you'd fall that hard," she chuckled, lying down beside him on the ice when it became clear he had no intention of getting up right away. "I figured the babies would catch you."

"They tried, but they weren't fast enough," said Bixlow. He reached out from behind him and unearthed Pappa, who was a bit cracked from the fall. He'd have to fix that later. The rest of them had made it out okay, though, and were hovering off to the side. Pappa joined them.

"Sorry," Lisanna giggled.

Bixlow glanced over at her. "Somethin' tells me you're less than sincere. Could be all the freakin' chortlin' you're doin' over there."

"I don't chortle!"

"Oh, rest assured, you chortle."

"_Chortle, chortle_!" the babies cheered from the sidelines.

Lisanna huffed and looked up at the moon, which was just a big white blur behind the clouds. She ran her hands down the surface of the ice, cold and slippery and gritted with snow under her gloves. "Isn't it weird to think that there's a whole world sleeping under here?" she said, tapping the ice. "We're just skating above all the fish and stuff, and they probably don't even know it."

"Weird," Bixlow agreed. "Are there even fish in this lake?"

"Pond," Lisanna corrected. "And yes, there are. I don't know what kind, but some of them are small and silver, and there are bigger green and blue ones, and then there are brown ones that live in the mud. Do you think mud freezes in the winter?"

Bixlow shrugged. "Dunno. Don't _pond_er it too hard."

Lisanna snorted and smacked his arm at the sorry pun.

"Ow! What was that for?! C'mon, I came up with that all by myself!"

"I can tell."

They looked up at the clouds for a bit longer. "Do you think," Bixlow said slowly, "that there are giant people above us, walkin' and skatin' on the clouds?"

"I think we'd notice," said Lisanna thoughtfully.

"The fish don't."

"The fish are frozen."

"Yeah, so'm I."

Lisanna rolled her eyes and reached her hands up to the clouds, squinting at them closely. "I don't know, I think we'd be able to tell. The moon would illuminate the people for us, or at least show us their shadows."

They laid in the muffled silence of the snow, watching the snowflakes spin gracefully through the air. Whenever one of them moved, it was a crack like thunder in the white quiet.

"…That conversation got weird," Bixlow finally said.

"Agreed," Lisanna concurred. She sat up, grateful for the segue, and clapped her hands. "Let's try skating again."

Bixlow groaned, but Lisanna popped up on her skates and grabbed his floppy arms, trying in vain to hoist him off the ground. She had gotten him to at least sit up when an evil smile flashed across his face, and with a quick, powerful jerk of his arms he upset Lisanna's balance and caused her to topple on top of him. It was a clumsy, painful topple, not the cute kind from the movies. Lisanna's head hit Bixlow's visor, which really hurt, and they ended up in a homogenous mass of limbs on the ice.

"Ouch," Lisanna said, rubbing the tender spot on her forehead. She hoped there wouldn't be a bruise.

"Tell me about it," Bixlow complained, clutching his ear. "You got my brains rattlin' around in here."

"That's what happens when there's extra space," Lisanna snapped. "You're the one who decided to be a jerk, anyway."

"I ain't a jerk," Bixlow protested. "I just don't really wanna skate right now."

"You could have just said so," Lisanna muttered. Her face warmed when she gouged her position on top of him, but she didn't make any move to get up, and neither did he.

Bixlow grinned and gently pinched her cheek. "You're face is red, babe."

"It's cold," she said. Her face only grew pinker. Bixlow was close enough to see the small snowflakes caught in her eyelashes and threaded through her silver hair.

"I could warm you up," Bixlow grinned.

"I think you're already doing a pretty good job at that," Lisanna muttered into her scarf. Bixlow gave a hearty laugh that Lisanna could feel underneath her. He gripped her scarf in one hand and tugged it down, tipping back his visor with the other. Lisanna didn't resist—she closed her eyes and lowered herself into the kiss.

It was long and moved with frustrating slowness, like sweet syrup, but it did indeed warm Lisanna from head to toe. There was a metal scrape as Bixlow tossed his mask onto the ice, and his hand moved down to her waist, where he held her closer. Lisanna cupped his jaw in her hand and wished that her gloves were gone so she could feel the rough skin on her fingertips.

Bixlow's grip tightened on her waist and without warning he rolled over, pressing Lisanna into the ice. A noise somewhere between a squeak of surprise and a purr of delight escaped her throat. She spread her fingers across the frozen water to test if they had begun to melt it. It seemed like it should have turned to water under her palm, but it remained hard, unforgiving ice.

Bixlow broke from the kiss and ran his lips up her jaw, past her hairline. He kissed her forehead, the place where she'd banged it on his visor, and then her cold nose, warming it immediately, and then back to her lips again, kissing her in such fierce, rapid succession that it left her feeling dizzy.

Bixlow chuckled and moved down to her scarf, burrowing his cold face in the crook of her neck. "Don't forget to breathe," he advised. He ran his tongue along her throat, causing her to shiver.

"You're a little out of breath yourself," Lisanna gasped when she could think again. Their breath came out in puffs of steam, mingling together in the winter night until she couldn't tell whose was whose. Her chest heaved, and the cold air stabbed at her lungs, but even that couldn't penetrate the crescendo of heat inside her body.

She felt cold when Bixlow was suddenly gone, the space in front of her empty and bare without him. He lay back on the ice beside her, head pillowed under one arm. His eyes shined bright green like a cat's when they landed on her, and smiled that tongue-wagging smile when he read the expression clearly on her face. He reached out and took her hand on the ice. "Don't worry, babe, there's more where that came from."

"Shut up," Lisanna muttered, blushing.

"It only gets better, I promise."

"Looking forward to it."

"Yeah, I'm a regular sex god."

"Oh, jeez."

"Makin' ladies melt in my very presence."

"Well, you know what?" Lisanna said. "I can ice skate better than you. So there."

Bixlow quirked an eyebrow. "Can you?"

"I think we already established that."

"Did we?"

"Yes, we did."

Bixlow flashed her another chilling, slightly crazed grin and stood up, yanking her up with him. He spun her around and put one hand on her waist, skating backward and pulling her along with him. Lisanna gaped as they danced a graceful figure eight around the pond. Bixlow didn't stumble once, and his babies were off to the side, humming a melody and swaying through the air.

"You can ice skate?!" she cried.

"I told you, I've yet to find somethin' I ain't good at."

"Then why did you—" Lisanna froze, realizing. "That was a set up! You…you—!"

"Actually, I was originally doin' it to spare your feelings," Bixlow explained. "You were so excited to teach me somethin' that I couldn't burst your bubble by tellin' you I was already a master. Granted, I was plannin' on makin' out on the way home—I do have money on it, after all—but then I fell and the moment just seemed so right…"

"You have _money_ on it?!"

"Yeah, I entered the poll for when we'll get together."

"There's a _poll_?!"

Bixlow nodded. "Don't worry, we'll split the earnings."

Lisanna scowled and tried to push him, but ended up just upsetting her own balance. Bixlow caught her by the waist and yanked her flush to him, grinning down at her. He brushed his lips across her cheek. "And then you had to go and brag about how good of an ice skater you are," he whispered, nipping her earlobe. "And I decided I had to keep you humble."

"You're unbelievable," Lisanna muttered crossly, burrowing her face into his coat.

"I know," Bixlow snickered. "But don't worry, I'm sure you'll find somethin' that you're better at eventually."

"Oh? And what makes Bixow the Sexy Beast say that?"

He tugged at her hair until she looked up at him, pouting. He smiled at her and kissed her again. "'Cause you're unbelievable," he said with uncharacterstic softness. Lisanna blinked. Bixlow's soft smile expanded into a grin, and he released her, nearly sending her sprawling onto the ice. "C'mon, let's get off this lake and get some of that tea crap before we freeze to death."

"It's a pond. A _pond_," Lisanna called after him as he glided his way to the bank. She scooped down and picked up his mask, catching her reflection in the gleaming metal. Then she smiled and hugged it to her chest, heading to the snowdrifts where Bixlow was waiting.


End file.
